Division

I stand pressed against the glass wall dividing us. Our hands reach for each other's against the glass. My forehead is creased, pressed to the window, and my teeth grind. I hate that he's taking the blame for this, for me, the punishment is mine.

"Idiot," I bite at him. In Creole I ask, or rather mouth, "How am I supposed to save you?"

He smiles at me, his forehead matched against mine. His right eye is swollen, blood dried to his face. "You can't," he mouths. My face goes livid with rage, and I'm about to shout at him when he looks up then flicks his gaze back to me. "He will."

My countenance calms, and I pull back. He raises his fingers to his lips, presses his fingers against the glass, and I'd give anything to feel that warmth growing from his vitality, not the blood running cold on his flesh. I settle for kissing the glass before the guards yank him away to be tortured anew.


I'm in our study, head in my hands, frustrated out of my mind trying to figure out how to release him, when I hear Him. "You're trying to save him," He whispers.

"Obviously," I snarl. "And what are You doing? Nothing! Letting him fall apart in there!"

"He's not falling apart; you know that. He's relying completely on me. You're just trying to make me feel guilty, which is rather silly, don't you think?" I don't reply because I know He's right; He always is. He continues, "You should be relying on me too."

"I am!"

"Then why are you trying to save him?"

"What are you talking about? What else am I supposed to do?"

"Why are you trying to save him?"

"I just said-" the reality of the statement hits me, "Oh." He lets me stew on that one for a bit. Finally I say, "I'm sorry; You're right -obviously. I- I give this up to you. I want to help him, help You help him. Lord, if you take him away from me," I start to become hysterical.

"That's not up to you. I don't need your help, though I appreciate the sentiment; let Spirit move in you, and this process will go smoother. But my ways are not your ways; I will do as fit."

I try to hold back the attitude in my statement, "That's not fair. He's done everything for You. I should be in there; I haven't stayed nearly as true to You, done nearly as much as him in Your name." I've tried this argument before, and I've felt the same response. My time isn't up yet. I can only hope that means my husband's time isn't up either.