I can almost hear them drag some days. Jacob Marley across these wood plank floors. It sounds like a slave dance. A dirge. It sounds like death is coming, or is already here.
Sometimes I feel like I am the weighted links that hold you down, hold you back. Other times I am your accomplice, your co-conspirator…we two breaking out of some sort of prison box others want to lock us in. Sometimes I feel locked to this house like the dog on the porch, sometimes…
Sometimes motherhood expectations weigh heavy around my wrists, bind my hands together keeping me from making the choices I would like too. The chaff is almost visible the way, some days, I want to break clear of them with a big rock, how some really hard days I find myself chewing at my own hand…like a bear in trap I think it is the only way to Free.
Sometimes I roll around in the chains myself. I willingly yoke them around my neck. I spend too much time on Pinterest. I read about what all the other people are doing and somehow feel like that is my call too. I loop those heavy links around and around. I chase career and dreams and hip and each coil weighs more than the last and my head hangs low.
But You? You tell me yoke is easy, burden light. You tell me that I am not a slave, but a daughter adopted, redeemed. You lift my head, my back straightens up, the chains all tumble. And in this moment, my breath comes easy. The sudden rush of air feels like wind in my hair, a love song in my ear, it is nothing like a funeral song.