Crooked Road and the Briar essay on the secret rosa parks writing paper sildenafil citrate and pregnancy liver damage orlistat stress management nursing students thesis prednisone 10mg watson frequency of taking levitra critical thinking creativity cpm org slash homework help help with personal statement for teaching assistant enter cheap scholarship essay editor website como debo utilizar o viagra air force general speech cara membuat obat alami setara viagra combining viagra and regalis chemical energy produced through essay lord of the flies human nature thesis best essay collections watch medgar evers free essay go to link follow essay about population education IMG_9336

Seeing a loved one buckle and be dragged down hardens the heart and makes life a darker place.

It happens a breath at a time, a step taken…no one wants to shack up in hell. It’s a wide causeway to the depths…and a narrow one to righteous results. People don’t set out to be junkies, lose-out, or spend their lives in prison, but it is where so many of even the best and brightest wind up. So many more of us simply end up in less dramatic prisons…lives of silent misery and mediocrity in all we do.

At what point does someone become eligible for abuse? When do the stains start to appear on the pure soul? Those first words taken in anger?

The roots that twist around us pull us down imperceptibly…a breath at a time. Causing a step to be not taken. The course chosen for us. Not the course we chose for ourselves.

Silence stealing our breath.

Inaction plotting our course.

The world making our choices.

To mouth the words is to be cast down. One must act for oneself, and watch others make the choices that land them were they may. In very few instances are we able to intercede. In those cases, action can save life, and have heroic results for the beloved. So often though, we must watch those we have loved the most be dragged into that hell one breath at a time.

Silence stealing their breath.

Inaction plotting their course

The world making their choices.

I am thankful for the woman that picked the warm coat I am tucked into like a walking sleeping bag as I sit here in bare feet offering my prayers upward in meditation of those we have loved, and those we have left behind. We can only work with our hearts oftentimes, and I am learning to not only accept this, but appreciate and respect that. To allow prayers to be just that, a sacred request and expression of care…a heartfelt meditation. No more. Just a beam of love and hope.

Another way.

Letting go and letting God.


“Down the crooked road a ways
A child’s shadow hiding in the briar
Tending to a twisted heart that’s bent and broken
Wounded and abandoned left amongst the rotted root to rot
Moon, crimson moon
Rose Marie’s walking down the crooked road a ways
All aglow, her fair white skin
Portrait of beauty, angel to many
Hears the hush crying from the briar
Reaches in her hand to see what’s the matter
And is dragged through the darkness
Beneath the lonely cypress
The town’s beloved daughter
Carried to her death in the turbid waters
And set afloat downstream
Whole town erupts, bursts into flame
Parties go a-searching down the crooked road a ways
Find old Rufus there drunk and asleep
Fishing by the water must have killed our beloved daughter
Can’t hold back these waves of anger
Tie a rope around his neck
See if he still hollers
another innocent soul hangs over the briar”

“Crooked Road and the Briar” by Calexico (Joey Burns)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *