Conversations with Shehe

Wheel of the Pheonix

Life happens in cycles, wheels.
Turn the wheel.
Sometimes, it turns faster than others.

This time it turns faster.
I remember this part.
The distance.
The defensiveness.
The doe in a headlight look in her eyes.
The lack of understanding.
The inability to hear what I was saying.

This time it's also different.
I am not alone in the house.
Legal marriage is involved.
It's happening at an accelerated rate.
I've been told it won't happen again.
Robert and Annabel don't live 2 houses down anymore.

I can almost feel the pain.
It lives on the wheel.
The wheel is turning closer.
No one is capable of hurting me as deeply as she.
On the wheel is a ritual death, mine.
I am tired of being the Pheonix.

The wheel is turning quickly.
The changes are daily.
Why is the wheel in such a hurry?
What's the rush?
I suppose it's so the pain is quick instead of long.
Perhaps the wheel knows it's best this way.

The wheel is perfect.
If I must die, I must.
I trust her, even as she strikes me.
I trust him, even as he is repulsed by me.
I feel sorry for the one who must watch, and cannot stop it.
Yeshua, here we are again, aren't we?

The Wheel is the turning of the Universe.
The universe is perfect.
Yeshua, hold my hand as no mortal can.
Bring me faith and knowingness in this hour.
Each year we do this on the wheel.
Culmination week for us is Easter.

The wheel turns.
Morning and a new day.
I ask forgiveness for they know not what they do.
More pain I can feel on the wheel, as it turns.
Like Yeshua to greet the inevitable.
Like Yeshua, I stretch out my arms to embrace the wheel.

And die.
And am reborn.
I am a Pheonix.


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Wheel of the Pheonix

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