Sinai

I can’t remember the last time I slept. Not really slept, like a child.

The days blend as you get older. My children still face each day as a new adventure. But me – the ticking clock is my pulse and it never stops, weaving day and night into one seamless quickstep.

Every night there’s a whisper in my broken dreams. The voice is small and still; a child, or spirit. But I’m neither awake or asleep, and a gale blows in my soul and a fire burns in my head and I lie on shaky ground.

The truth is I’ve been running, day and night, year on year. Running away; from myself, from what I’ve become – the carnage and the triumph; running from you – king, queen, prophet, peasant. I want to please you, but I can’t stand your gaze. Don’t look at me, not now, not deeply.

But in this mountain cave, across this desert I’ve found Sinai. Origin, palladium, presence.

Time leaks here. I’ve got to get up, and wash up, and tidy up, and get down to work! There’s no time to lose, no time like the present. But time leaks and I’ll keep running. The clock ticks.

Dearest Rain, cleanse us; kill the empty fire, quell the wind and soften our shaky ground. For we chased a shadow, and now we’re so far from home.