Remorseful Celebration

While everyone stands around her and cheers her on with glee, she starts to go somewhere else. She has soared through another hurdle and her small circle is ready to wring her dry with their loving embrace. Ellen, however, faces an inward battle. Turmoil that trails like a stained wedding gown, and now the tears inside her leap abound. What is there to celebrate anyway? A life started way too early than the body was ready for and a mind that had to toughen amidst the pointed fingers and flared noses. No one ever says they are sorry. For casting her out, for all those misgivings, she simply has to swallow them all in one giant gulp. So, Ellen....watches the crowd around her and even while knowing they love her, she cannot seem to immerse herself in this bitter revelry. Why should anyone celebrate a life of struggle? Her life was truly like a stage show and right there in the midst of celebrating, Ellen felt remorse.

The judges usually sit along the street corners with their hoisted, arrogant shoulders. They are always ready to prey, to pounce. Each time she makes her way to walk along life's unbalanced staged, the obvious is a tilt and once again she falls. It was always a stumble and then a fall. They often peered through spectacles of hostility, and she could even smell their disdain. Her light was annoying, she knew, and many times she felt she had to hide it. She lets the most insecure of the wolf pack sink their claws into her radiance and too often, a high price is paid. A price of detachment, fear, exclusion, shadows.

The stage is usually dark too, and so she always has to maneuver haphazardly to make it across. The judges sit and loop their bodies in, filled with joy at the anticipation of Ellen stumbling. The audience laughs and jeers at her appearance, something she never has any control over. The judges scowl and their teeth hiss the most malicious insults. They blame her for her transgressions, they pick at her wounds and drink in haste at the flowing of her blood.

At the sound of a familiar voice, Ellen comes back to herself. Those trances are happening frequently, she notices. These out of body experiences take hold of her. Realizing where she is standing and with who she stands, she has an epiphany. What do opinions and what people say have in common, she thought. They hold no weight, nor do they have power unless we give it to them. As Brad, her childhood friend takes her hand and swivels her around to show her off to their friends in giddy momentum, Ellen is hit by her insurmountable blessings. 

Right there, she decides to leave the judges behind. Let them judge each other, let them remain in the midst of their chaos, let them fight each other to the death. She decides to pour grace upon her crown instead. Grace that runs down and blesses her all over. She is not going to hide her light any longer. Out of remorse can come bountiful celebration. Ellen knows who she is and may she never forget this. May her light shine till it blinds, may her strength be hope for others, may her small victories inspire. May the celebrations of who she has become reverberate through the ages.