Go The Way of Hope | The Lions Den
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The Lions Den

 

 

Sweat drips into my eyes . . .

I notice it’s STING but am unable to wipe it away.

The guards’ grip on my arms too focused, too tight.

Any movement other than the slow, shuffling pace of a shackled prisoner walking would not be welcomed.

The clank of the shackles continues though long ago silenced by my internal SCREAMS no one hears.

Why bother screaming anyway?

NO ONE seems to care here.

The weight of the shackles cuts into my skin.

The pain doesn’t matter because the END is near.

I’m being led to my demise.

I am Daniel.

This is my Lion’s Den.

 

I am led from one hall into another.

Having nothing to lose I glance into the eyes of those I pass.

Quickly their eyes dart away, half PRIDE . . .

half FEAR.

They realize at any moment this green mile walk of death could be theirs too.

It’s a fickle world DICTATED by a fickle judge.

One minute you think you are in until you learn you are out.

ALONE . . .

In the cliche cold.

 

There is a shift in the air.

It’s a familiar humid stench,

One often found on a sunny day at the zoo.

But these lions are ANYTHING BUT lazy or tamed.

Ferocious and starving,

They’ve been prepared and trained.

My mind unable to process the stark reality that soon flesh will be ripped from my bone.

All while I am ALIVE . . .

Until one tear too many and I feel nothing.

Saved from the HORROR of it all by my own LOSS OF LIFE.

 

The shuffle slows to a stop as I reach a locked rusty door.

The creaking of the door fades instantly as I hear the first ROAR.

The lions are nearby letting me know . . . the end is too.

 

This is the end of me.

All moments have led to this . . .

I pause and wonder,

Did all of Your paths for me really have to lead me to THIS?

This?

Devoured by death and devastation,

And you are supposed to be a Good Father and I the loving daughter?

This doesn’t feel loving.

Leading me here to this moment I never wanted.

I didn’t want my life to end up like this.

Yet, here I still stand.

Sweating and shackled and wondering . . .

Do you even still see me?

Do you even care?

 

Why bother saving me if you were only going to let them kill me?

Is this some sick sport of kingdom manipulation from high on your throne you like to play?

Cause it’s what I feel.

Manipulated,

Played, and BETRAYED.

Like some innocent and too trusting lover.

I am tempted to believe you narcissistically love yourself more.

 

I half scoff, half laugh as I bitterly shake my head.

What I fool I’ve been.

To listen to the lies and think

You will show up and save me from the Lion’s Den.

 

I pause from this angry moment of imagination and step back into my own EXHAUSTED life.

As the roar of the lions get louder,

The moment I need to hear You the most . . .

Is the one time I hear you the least.

Do you not still see me?

Is this pawn about to get played in some cosmic chess game of life?

WHERE ARE YOU?

Don’t you still care?

I don’t have the energy to find You.

I’m too tired.

Too angry.

Too scared.

 

I close my eyes and feel myself being thrown.

I am Daniel tossed in the Lion’s Den.

 

 

 

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