I met a man whose behavior struck me as
a cat trapped in a bag. At war with his own soul,
and perpetuating the invisible chaos.
Running blind, terrified and tripping over the
chains that kept him bound, while cloaked in
hooded darkness.
I began to speak words he didn’t hear.
Repeatedly, he was lashing out, as if
everything and everyone, in every direction
was attacking him.
Recreating his chaos for all to see and hear,
like an advertisement for hell, when actually
it was a cry for help.
I continued to speak words he didn’t hear.
I needed his help
but first he needed mine.
I took his hand and held it, as I listened.
He rambled on, though growing quieter
with each ranted phrase,
then suddenly he began to cry.
I kept speaking words he didn’t hear.
Amongst the sobbing groans were
words of loss and regret.
The truth escaped.
The cat was out of the bag.
The hood came off and
the chains fell away.
I spoke more words he didn’t hear.
He was uncomfortable without the
familiar facade and tried to hide
behind blame and hurry.
But like a plow meeting the resistance
of rock and hard ground, I continued
with faith and persistence to…
Speak words he didn’t hear.
I know God worked through me
to sow seeds into this man, for
my own belief was strengthened.
The body hears so little, but
the soul and God hear everything.
Thus, I continue…
Speaking any way for prodigals to hear.
~ Rhonda Logan Bailey, 7.10.24
~ photo by Donald Teel, Unsplash
~ Crossing Over video by Rhonda Logan Bailey, https://www.youtube.com/shorts/J7zFhjrAnF8
