A Post for Peace

My husband goes to work, as so many men do.  However, instead of picking up his dry cleaning and knotting his tie, he velcros on his steel plated vest, resting over his heart and loads his weapon, securing it on his hip.  Tonight, I squeeze him for a second longer before he walks out my door, acknowledging the potential danger which he may encounter, unlike most days when I push frightening thoughts out of my mind.  Tonight, we all face the reality of the sacrifice of his profession.  His shiny metal badge and patch on his arm are more than a uniform today, they are a target.  Before I lay my head down at night, I whisper a prayer into my pillow, asking for his safety, the safety of my two brothers and two cousins, who also share his occupation, along with the thousands of others who willingly go to work wearing armor, hoping it will keep them alive, if need be.

The other day my husband was asked to wear his vest and gun at all times.  As police officers were being followed home from work and beaten.  Yesterday, two officers were assassinated, execution style while sitting on post in their police car. It is very easy to have an opinion of someones actions, however if I injected a spectator in the same scenario they would be afraid, because being a police officer is a scary job.  They go to work hoping not to get into an altercation. They respond to a domestic call, walking in blindly into strangers homes.  They show up after the rape, after the kidnap and after the tragic car wreck.  The things these men and women see and deal with is enough to put any normal being into therapy for the rest of their days.  However the men and women who serve and protect, are brave, strong and intelligent individuals, which we rely on to right the wrong, show up when we are desperate and afraid and protect us as a society.

Tonight I cringe as the loud clack of metal echos through the hallway.  He ever so cautiously lock and reloads then slings his weapon on his hip.  This post is a prayer for peace and an end to violence against the men and women going to work, doing their job.  My condolences go out the the families that lost a hero.

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A Meditation . . .

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I wrote this some time ago, trying to describe the feeling of taking a warm shower after a long day.  I was hoping to capture the moment when I submerge my head in the water and drown out all sound.  For me, that is a place of clarity, where I can just let it all go.  Either that or I need to get out more. Well, either way, here it is.

A chill set deep inside my bones, muscles tense, mind running. I peel away my clothing until they are slouched at me feet. With the twist of a knob, my oasis awaits. The steam climbs up my legs, eventually clouding my vision. Putting my right foot forward, I step towards the pulsing water, letting it slip over my body like an oversized shirt. I am engulfed in its warmth. My thoughts are fleeting like every bead of water rushing down. The inner voice has drained my emotions with anxiety, worry, fear. The water vibrating my back allows me to relax, sighing out all which I cannot change. I surrender my head to the current. It is here where I find the silence. I am just the soul, seeking shelter as the water saturates my home. It is here I reside, safe and warm, unharmed and unaffected. I sit quietly watching, listening as the water pounces off, I can hear each solitary drop tap dancing and echoing within. The voices have vanished, leaving me as I am. Traveling within the walls my soul has been placed. Warmth, light, quiet and peace. I am. I am. I am.