Silence

Drip. Drop.  Drip. Drop.

 Water pounded from the awning to the sidewalk.

 Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. 

Every step seemed more intense.  Each sound engraved into her mind, making her wonder if she was yet reaching insanity.  On her left she saw a boy, sitting on a bench.  With his face cradled in his hands, she saw the difficulties he faced.

 Silently, with her head bowed, she prayed.

 The cars zoomed past and the air stung her face.  She walked the busy streets of a city, an almost godless city.  From the corner of her eye, she saw a woman.  Her shirt was large and stained, and you couldn’t see her shorts.  She didn’t even bother to hide the bruises that ran up her arms like artwork.  It was no secret that she was an addict.  She yearned to reach out, to show the woman she was loved.

 Instead, with her head bowed, silently she prayed. 

It seemed suddenly she realized her surroundings.  Everyone was racing by, muttering curses with angry outlooks.  What had our world turned into?  Could absolutely no one reach out to our world?  Could no one show them that our God is real, and that we live for Him?  Why was everyone so silent about the greatest power on this earth? 

As she followed each crack in the pavement, like the cracks growing deeper in her heart, she bowed her head again, to silently pray. 

Finally, she lifted her head to see ahead of her now.  At the end of her long walk following the sidewalk, there were a grouping of boys and girls.  Dressed in black and blue, they each matched, along with every scowl. 

Her heart grew tight, and her stomach was in knots, but silently she prayed.

 A hit, a punch, a throw; silence had done nothing for this world.  A knife, a stab, a gun, a shot; she was almost too late.  Blood poured with her salt infested tears, and she cried out to the city about her God.

  With her death came revelation, and with her final tears came forgiveness from the only one who matters.

 Our Father.

By: Andria Dawn McMillen