Glass Ceiling
Glass Ceiling
Slathered in self righteous indignation, spiced up with “saintly” authority, and topped off with white hot swirling rage. It’s medicine that will only be ingested by force. Bittersweet medicine of truth packaged in fury.
She cries, “it burns,” then shrieks, “make it stop.”
The medicine has a life of its own and will win. So it says. A white hot poker forces an opening in her throat for passage. Her resistance is automatic and is met with a slice of shooting pain. She recoils to save herself.
Begging this time, “I’ll do as you say. Just help me. I can’t help but resist your fury.”
“HA!,” smirks the Fury. Begging is his fuel.
Swirling takes over the pain. It yanks her forward and slams her back.
“Spot check,” she yells out of know where with a commanding voice she forgot she had.
This utterance materializes a point of quiet light that snatches her attention while the rest of her obeys the Fury and continues the spin cycle.
Then a voice speaks that she knows the Fury can’t hear. The flicker simply says, “find the star.”
Meanwhile, the Fury continues dancing and is mesmerized by his creation. His head tips back, mouth agape, throat hollows as he rapturously drinks the medicine from above. It soothes, washes, and sedates. Iridescent crystalline shards fall pricking ever so subtly creating openings into each cell.
Floating in the cloudless sky, held and weightless, supported and free his chest rises. The invisible hand lifts. Surrender is this medicine.
Fury’s arms, legs, and head fall back allowing the heart to be in the lead. Rise, rise, rise pulls the hand. It’s taking affect.
The unknown and familiar harmonics are flowing into the pricked openings as the light virus spreads. It’s captivatingly blue flame wildfire.
Burning hotter than the flames of Fury, the wildfire is intent on destruction. Echos of shattering glass boom as the fire consumes. “Look up,” is the directive. Window after window after window appears. A molten blue anvil strikes each one fracturing and splintering them into starlight that rains down.
She startles and internally shouts, “there it is,” and then sharpens her focus on the target. She knows to pause and listen for confirmation. Strong safe hands meet her request and nudge her forward. That’s the answer she needed.
It’s go time! She says a full throttle “YES,” steps back, looks and thinks, “There has got to be a trillion stars out here. Which one is mine?”
Her questioning gets the attention of the Fury, and she can feel him trying to escape his revery and find her again. She quickly shakes her head and cranks the dial to hear the voice of the light. The harmonics sing, “trust me, and don’t look back this time.”
With that, she dives wholly into the stream of light. Her faith materializes a pipeline that carries her swiftly and slowly all at once. This journey will take no time and a millennia, which is fine by her. She’s not going back.