Fractured Segments, Consonants and Vowels
“’My daughter’s going to die! My daughter’s going to die!’ he pleaded. ‘Please come—lay your hands on her—rescue her and let her live!’” Mark 5:23
Below the hum of marketplace rustle there are thebass notes of a parent in pain. Troubles wind throughhis throat and land at the bottom of his feet. He has nobreathto project his plea much further.But there is an ear that hears all,there are feet that come closer to discernthe consonants and vowels that explode underneath.And he took those fractured segments and turned theminto a dirgethat heard the anxiety that felt like a bat trying to breakout of the crying father’s chest.
It was like standing in a whirlwind, slow motion,it was a tornado of fear.It was like the sun had forced its way past his eyesand seared his aching heart. It was like the moondid notexist at all.
He could not contain the weight that smoldered inside his chest,he could not choose anything other than this unrestthat blinded him to the fog of people swarming withtheir constant hum and cajole. He could only see the onehe hoped would see him. He could only see theshadows that fell fast over him.
“Come”, he said, not knowing the answer.“She is dying,” he said, not knowing the outcome.
He heard nothing but the eyes that heard, and heardfeet that were ready to follow him home. Everythingwas smoky,was befogged,was blurry,as the healer listened and came to his home. Live ordie,he knew his hope was tied to a stranger that actedlike a friend.
Husband, Father, Grandpa, Poet, Pastor, a normal guy who attempts to love God fully and my neighbor as myself.