“I killed my brother! I killed my brother!”
I scream as I run into the street after the ambulance.
“No, honey, you did not kill your brother,”
my kind neighbor, Lois, pulls me close
her voice purring
into my numb unhearing ears.
“He’ll be okay. It was an accident…an accident.”
So many times I’ve been referred to as “Queen”
in spaces where roots of my story are explored.
But I do not feel a queen
more the Joker…
one on whom is laid
Blame
Embarrassment
Cause of family tragedy/demise
Leaves littered along the path
of my most vulnerable years.
Chaos swirls while
Parental scorn rips playfulness
from childhood grid
and dashes it on rocks
of falsified translation
“This is Chrissy; the one who hurt Bill.”
Shards of me
deliberately mangled
tossed aside
crushed again and again
beneath the weight of unjust responsibility
Innocence reaches
beyond blame and isolation
even as life and hope obliterate
How long, O Lord?
Glimpses of light
filter through rot-ridden leaves
birds sing
breezes blow
scattering debris of death
and autumn air kisses
tear stained cheeks of chastity.
Flying home from a conference
I view a thunderhead
the pilot announces we will
skirt around at a
protected distance;
the colossal cloud
lit with vertical flashing fury
unmatched by any
fireworks display.
The view reminds me of my life-long campaign
to summon the shards.
As we deplane
evening purples and golds
hem billowing clouds
and sun’s sphere
bows to moon and stars
Calm
A song of peace
ushered in by the matchless grandeur
of God’s creative hand!
A mindful plea bubbles up from deep within
“Lord, let the power of all that was
surrender its grip on newly emerging
Life…”
A Queen
under the canopy of His care,
I inhale, exhale
embrace my crown
and rest.
Christine Browning is a lover of story—including her own. She loves to hear and longs to respond well to others’ stories. A late bloomer in the field of education, it is her absolute delight to teach at Milligan College in East Tennessee. She also counsels women who have experienced trauma and abuse. Christine is the mother of three adult children, three incredible grandchildren and has been married for 42+ years to her delightfully playful husband, Tom.
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Christine…this is beautiful. Your words are a gift. This part was particularly meaningful to me:
A mindful plea bubbles up from deep within
“Lord, let the power of all that was
surrender its grip on newly emerging
Life…”
It is so helpful to know I have kindred spirits out there. Thank you for sharing your heart.
Thank you for your kind words, Jen. I both grieve and rejoice that you are a kindred spirit. I am thankful for this venue where our hearts and hopes can connect! Blessings to you. Christine
Oh, Christine, as I read this it made my heart ache for you and for your lost childhood. You were assigned a role as a child – a role that is familiar to me – that of a scapegoat. “How long Oh Lord?” is your plea – and mine. I LOVED the lines,
” and sun’s sphere
bows to moon and stars
Calm
A song of peace
ushered in by the matchless grandeur
of God’s creative hand!”
But God….He is not done writing your story, Christine! I have a feeling there are some chapters in your story yet to be told that will hold much grandeur as God creatively weaves His blessings and grace into your life through others and through the replacement and healing of what was lost. Thank you for sharing glimpses into your beautiful heart. Please keep writing!!
Barbara, that you for such stunning encouragement! I am so sorry you identify with a lost childhood and plea. But am thankful to know you and I walk in the freedom of knowing there is much, much more! Love to you, Christine
Hey Sis, I loved this as I read. It made think of all the times we shared. He sponsored me to join the Kiwanis Family in 2000 which I’ve been a part of for 20 years as of June 2920. How I grieved when Pop passed to be with the Lord. As I continue to study for certification in the alcohol and drug field.
Love you, John! Thank you for your words of hope.