Innerdialects

The room is dark except for dusk lights seeping in. Paru smiles like she means it. I don’t know whether to sit or stand, this is awkward. She’d lost her entire family in a series of events I don’t want to say. What can you say. After everyone’s gone home to their families, there will be reality to face. All their pictures on the walls, every memory with a face and sound to it.

We know each other from years of getting on buses, rickshaws to here and there. We live across the city and have not physically talked in a while now, and am startled at her peace. I cannot even hold her hand, nor say one sensible thing. Inside I’m saying, “Father God, please make this easy for her, please step in.”

We sit, have her mint tea, watch the stars come out. “I’ve prayed that my tears will be my new laughter. “

whats that? Oh ..laughter be her new tears?

Then I see she means it. The words come out of her like tall wild strong stallions.”If He said it, He does it. Weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

Outside now it is pitch dark night except for city lights and smog burring our skyline. We want to pray together but my words are fractured. Not hers. When she opens her mouth, it is gratitude. If pain has a new face this is it. She’s thanking God for every blessing, dear sweet Jesus Lord, am not swearing, but this is something else. She’s slaying dragons right here. I watch her close. Is this denial, is this counter therapy, some new technique in grief repair? Why isn’t there sadness, anger, pain? Sorrow has a feature I know nothing of?

Her face fills with silence. A full silence, pregnant. Spilling new emotion.

“I know where they are. This whole earth is just a passing moment in time.”

Sure we know that. I recall her folks singing,“Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine, oh what a fire taste of glory divine…”

and yet, she’s the one left here with momma earth, yes? Alone.

As I leave to get back home, Paru’s eyes smile, though her hands are cold. Yes there’s that thing. That Peace which baffles human understanding. I get it. I know Blessed Assurance, we’ve done every verse, I know Jesus, I’ve tasted His brand of Love, but to see it in action, in a place that’s grieving, this makes me tremble.

There’s a Force of power I was intended to factually see, meet. Words are read, now they’re are seen in 4dimensions. Faith is more than blind believing for the sake of some sort of altar.

Every week I write for FMF writers, today’s Prompt is “Spark” unsure I’ve fitted that word in. But this moment here, was. This is that Spark we wait for, we humans. Not that thing passed down by our parents, or legally politically correct altars. This is what one must feel inside or not at all. Am feeling its buzz in my ears, its voice,”Weeping may endure the night, but joy …”