I shall not be moved

From the Archives, Aug. 19, 2009...

"I shall, I shall, I shall not be moved."
" I shall, I shall, I shall not be moved..."

A thin, persistant voice drifts across the hallway. Fragments of a conversation follow. Some are from the present, others from a past nearly forgotten. All circle back to a main theme.

"Just like a tree, planted by the water, Lord, I shall not be moved."

A nurse comes in and a chorus of beeps and alerts accompany a dialogue that has been revisted at least sixteen times already. She leaves again to tend to less vocal, more restive charges.

"... all because we do not carry, everything to God..."

The voice breaks off midway through the second verse. It segues disjointedly into a discussion over what is and is not expected behavior. The nurse has come back, having called reinforcements. It's explained that they are there to look out for, to take care of the voice and its body. That this is not home, but it is safe. Blankets are adjusted, pillows fluffed, and silence descends.

Outside, the sky splits, cracking silently, a white-hot cut across the world framed by the window. The lightning only comes sporadically now. The air quiets, calming.

"Are you weary, weak and heavy laden? Tell it to Jesus..."

Once again the voice begins. The words and rhythm perfect, even if the notes are not. Its body is too weak to remember what it was told. It sings itself almost to sleep, finally quieted by the one thing that outlasts everything else that has been broken.