Pearl in the Sun

Sometimes I see my past with all its mistakes as a sentient being, a malevolent force. It is not satisfied with just chewing me up and spitting me out, but grinds me to dust, burns me to ash. Relentless its mighty hand scoops me up thrusting an open palm into the wind. Nothing to shield me, nowhere to run. I am blown away by ridicule, the howling of the wind laughing me to scorn.

When I look again, I see a tiny grain of millet trapped within the scar that rakes the palm. The husk, the hull, the waste have all been pounded, ground and winnowed away. And there I sit like a pearl in the sunlight.   The hand thrusts me lightly into the air and I feel I'm falling. Then He catches me and holds me in the hollow of His hand, ready for planting.