Waiting For a Miracle

They say it is a holiday of freedom 



Rejoice in redemption

But I do not need to taste salt water to be reminded of tears. 

And I do not need to eat a poor man’s bread to be reminded of affliction. 

We awaken each morning to another day of slavery, bound to a master that will not set us free.

Chronic illness shows no sympathy. 

The prayers and cries have left us empty. 

The brick and mortar paste has left a lump in our throats that never leaves. 

Freedom, they say.

But this darkness is not one that will be lifted through sacrifice. 

It is a plague we have been told we must accept and learn to live with. 

How can we rejoice in a freedom that we have been denied? 

Despite the endless years of toil and pain, no reward awaits.  

Just an ongoing cycle that waxes and wanes, like the moon. 

That sliver of light, which shines through the blackness and taunts us with hope, but always remains out of reach. 

In desperation, we yearn to be clean and fresh and new.

To laugh with a lightness we haven’t felt in years. 

To rediscover the youthful innocence that we once knew. 

We struggle to remove the buildup of bitterness in our hearts. 

We desperately wish to be set free. 

To dance with a free spirit on solid ground as the waters burst open and clear a path for a renewed life, washing our burdens away. 

They say it is a holiday of freedom. 

But they also say we will never be free.

Not from this illness.   

So how can we celebrate, endlessly awaiting a miracle that never comes?   

We are not supposed to rely on miracles.   

But only a miracle can set us free. 

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