I watched the sun drop over the hill--
like an egg cracked--
a yoke of understanding washed over me:

This list of do's and don'ts
This need to obtain perfection
is an unattainable standard

Why strive?

I watched you watch your vanilla sky,
and I let you go

You with your affable smile and easy laugh
You with your  eyes so genuine and your feet deeply rooted
You with the unnecessary apologies

You do not belong to me, and you never will
Just like this now pink, now orange, now purple sunset
that sinks down like a promise

Not to give me what I want
but to provide me with a new day tomorrow
to live again and reach again for perfection

This idea is not my own:
Clouds like scars mar this sherbet sky and remind us that even this broken creation is beautiful.

A mask looms over me and covers my face.
"Count backwards from 100."
My mouth feels like cotton--
My tongue weighs a ton.
I am falling backwards into an orange fuzz.
Pink and yellow squiggles bounce around me.
A blue one whispers to me,
"Give her more. She's waking up."

When I finally open my eyes,
I ask for it.
I see it in my mind's eye:
Brown, fuzzy
But I want to see the other side--
I imagine that it looks like the back of an eyelid.

I want to hold it and pet it and love it forever-- warm velvet and slime all in one piece of skin--
A most precious part of me that they have removed

It was unsightly
It might have caused cancer
I will never get it back

When I miss it, I touch my scar and am thankful for it.

They can't take me away completely.
Something still remains.

I wake up to let the dog out
And am greeted by your collective clutter--this family!--
***** cups and plates, cushions on the floor, old socks tucked into the couch, cracked pistachio shells intermingling with dried berry blood, ear plugs!

I wade into the bog of filth to begin my daily duties. I can hear your voice say, "No one ever helps me around here!"

Truly I am a modern Cinderella--I think-- beaten and worn down by those who don't appreciate me. So Christlike!

It smacks me in the face.
The realization that Christ was crucified last night  and is dead and buried and won't rise until tomorrow,
And the disciples have no idea that he will indeed rise!

I am no Cinderella.
I am a murderer going about her business without any remorse for her crime.

What a grim day Saturday can be.