*
Wisdom stood at the intersection calling. The cars would cover her voice and then roll away.
Follow me and stop medicating yourself with wine and speed. Don't flee your sorrow but turn and face it, confront it, let it shape you into the person you were born becoming.
This here is prayerspace, she said. Not somewhere else but here.
Wisdom was with God before he even created the world. He did not shut you folks out of his blessedness -- not ever -- nor did he ever choose to exclude this place. This place here. Therefore the first step into his kingdom can be, could be, taken just as well here as anywhere.
*
Come listen to me, Wisdom called, but the pimps and dealers laughed at her ill-fitting clothes and un-made-up face and they swore they would never stop and eat her charity food or sleep in her hermitage. She wasn't to their taste, they said. The others, most of them, walked by without stopping. A certain heedlessness bound rich and poor, young and old, black and white. They were all equally averse to her words. And outside her retreat the cars went by in a relentless mood, a form of fury, ready to run over anyone of any age who got in their way.
The convict stood in the street and drank in her words. He never wanted to move past her. And it wasn't that he lived by what she said, as much as he might have wanted to. It was just that he was nourished by hearing them and he wanted to listen forever.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment