Wait another day!
(A study in poetic redundance)
NOT only constantly. But continuously, incessantly, perennially, perpetually . . . she was and is puzzled, bewildered, perplexed.
Imagine her through the years, from a young girl to grown-up, braking halting freezing on her tracks, standing still, her eyes squeezed shut. Going delving diving into her depths, thinking thinking thinking.
Of mind-boggling things. Like: I know Omniscience Is Father God. All-Knowing. He must be, to have crafted Man so anatomically, biologically, scientifically superbly perfect. The brain lodged up there in skull thick enough to withstand the jarring shakes of neglected potholes; of being banged against the wall or ground by bullies despicable; of being thrown from a bike right smack against road barriers; of being struck pinned crushed while in transit. It was the maker’s All-Seeing stroke of incomparable genius to prop the head up there above the weak too-human body! Eyes ears seeing, hearing all; nose twitching a smell, mouth commenting on all!
And to have planted the spine seemingly fragile but so All-Powerful, that it shall raise Man up and all which rattles, quivers within his flesh; to let stand upright and proud like the debatably undefeatable debating Avengers. Though humped with the world’s burden on their shoulders, heroes do not grovel, cringe low, slither in abeyance on the ground like some people whose names one spat out fast and far.
The heart is well-placed, sucking pumping whispering gushing life throughout this being whose secrets it had flowed past shared brushed cleansed and forgiven with fresh blood.
Bony ribs wrap motherly around lungs. Here, she squashes her eyes further. But the maker must have had a reason for the stomach and the intestines and other organs and glands to be left hanging, prone and defenseless from mid to torso’s end! Oh my, in the region yet where all the sweetness, spices and life’s indulgences are! Where skin, muscles and fat are not thick enough to stop a booted kick, a knife, a bullet! At least the exits are tucked shyly between the legs. Cozy neighbors to where life begins!
And the legs and feet forward motions curiously courageously; sometimes not-so bravely backward. Better the arms the hands to move, manipulate things than to leave these acts to the lower limbs. Imagine eating with your smelly toes! Or touching a loved one’s cheeks tenderly with rough callous soles! God attached the limbs where they should be rightly, justifiably.
Where was she going when she braked, halted, froze? She was letting go of her weary worn-out self. She brushes off the blush the damp on her cheeks, the ringing in her ears, the tug to her heart. He called. He is calling still.
She turns round, and faced back from where she came. Before she braked halted froze. She hears tiny voices call her back. They need her still. More. Most.
She thumps her heart. She breathes again! He shall claim her another day.
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