It’s a big word, empty.
Strange how such nothingness can be so vast.
Or it can be small but devastating.
Empty reminds me of the hole left in my life
by the death of my mother.
Empty reminds me of how depression
sapped me of motivation and energy,
leaving me void of feeling,
a big black terrifying blank.
But empty also reminds me of
a cleared room before decorating,
a white canvas ready with easel, brushes, and paints laid out before it,
a vase waiting to be filled,
bare earth before planting,
the last Resurrection Egg in the box.
Empty is the moment before something new.
Empty is a place to begin again.
Empty is the potential for anything.
Empty is a tomb on Sunday morning.
Empty is the garden where we meet Him.
(This is my weekly link up with the Five Minute Friday community hosted at http://katemotaung.com/).