Cracks

At 12:09 this morning, I awoke and listened to the shear sound of flames pumping heat

into our home. My eyes twitched, not knowing which patch of darkness to settle on. My thoughts fuzzed with wonder,

"Why am I awake?"

Then, realization hit.

Drip, Drip Drip.

Agitated, I wiped away the sickness that was expelling from my nose. In preparation to re-enter the land of peace, I shifted my slumber position. Now, a dark smear of maroon caught my eye. In utter horror, my lungs deflated. My once drooped eyes widened with shock, as I stared down at my blood covered forearms. The wrinkles in my hands showed through the dried red like cracks in the pavement. Or cracks in maturity. Or cracks in hearts. Or cracks in teeth. Or cracks in honesty, fraud, effort, or success.

I got a bloody nose at 12:09 this morning. What a horrifying sight it is, to see my own innocent hands covered in a liquid that is so closely tied to everything immoral. Events like these cause smudges of blood on my sheets, cracks in my judgement, flooding wonder.

Drip, Drip, Drip.