I lay in my white bed in a shiny glass house very high up on the top of a hill. The sun shines through ~ exposing everything. It is clean and neat with flowers at my feet ~ people caring for me hour by hour. I can see the reflection of the red, white and blue flag that waves on the pole outside. Just beyond that is a tall lady with a torch held high, and the words, “Give me thy tired, “ beneath her feet. A light shines forth for guidance to all who look her way.
Everyone understands I am trapped here. Only certain reflexes are in operation.
I am waiting, like Snow White, for the kiss of liberation.
The world is focused on my plight now, everyone taking sides. Everyone but me, for as hard as I try, I cannot make this body perform. I have no respirator, nothing to sustain my life, save a feeding tube, and my trust in God.
So I try to hold on, to smile, to be thankful, to understand why I am this way, for
I still remember running, reaching, in-depth conversations . I still remember that certain zest for life.
Old friends come by. Sometimes I can let them know I remember, but mostly the prison I am in holds me. I talk with my eyes and a few interpretable sounds. I hear talk of new medicines and tests. It seems a dream ~ for I have been waiting so long.
My parents - faces I know and love, my sister and brother, with concern written on each face, enter my immaculate room, and leave again.
My room is sterile and safe. My town is kind. I feel good here...only weak. My country is refuge to so many and it’s laws are fair. I am thankful for each kindness, each meal, each glass of water and I remember words read even as a child, “I was hungry and you fed Me, thirsty, and you gave Me to drink.”
Bless them all, I pray in my silent language. Each one who ministers to me and each one who is kind in word or deed, and each one...that says a prayer.”
Please God, send that kiss and liberate this captive soul.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Outside the hospice, the gathering of people prayed, sought to bring nourishment,
pledging to stand by, with, and for, her. Outside, the police were gathered, people with good intentions arrested. Condemning with laws of mercy, sentencing without repeal, while lawmakers haggle over trivialities - nourishment and hydration are with held. While law books are studied under the microscopes of Justice, injustice is accomplished. While we hold our pattern up for the world to see, the world must wonder at what this nation is really about.
Study our laws and procedures well, for in murder-while-you-wait, the world will
see. The glass house reflects without distortion.
One person holds the key. If “one person” would relinquish their power, everything
would change. If one person would extend mercy, all would be different. If one person backed off ~yielded, passed the torch, how many sighs would there be?
God does not need help to carry us home. He will, as He says, pick the time and place. Then why do we insist? “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord”. Wouldn’t He be more pleased if we let Him do it His way?