DESPAIR AND HOPE WEAR DIFFERENT FACES

DESPAIR AND HOPE WEAR DIFFERENT FACES

She sat across from me in the hospital lobby, arms cradling a bloody young girl.

I was waiting for Marian’s visit to end. Since learning she was pregnant, her face had taken on a rosy glow, a smile I hadn’t seen in the five years of our marriage.

Meanwhile, across from me, a child cried in pain. Dark battered face, swollen black eyes. The mother audibly praying, “Dios, Ayúdame. God, help me!”

I walked to the desk. “Can somebody take care of her?”

“They’re waiting for an emergency doctor to free himself a little time,” the desk nurse said.

Down the hall, Marian headed toward me like one of those TV commercials where a woman floats through the air, smiling, beaming, over her choice of some new product discovery.  

When I turned, the mother and child were gone.

Sheltered from danger,

The fledgling hides behind wings--

Mother keeps her safe.

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 HEAVEN’S WHAT I WANT

The mea culpa I rattled off?

Life had me measuring my own worth

in how much I could accumulate:

the electronic toys, knickknacks, trinkets—

collections of nonsense that will sit

on dusty shelves after I am dust.

I climbed that ladder for elusive

success. I broke hearts. I lied through my teeth.

Then one day the locked door inside me

came ajar and I could feel the rays

of grace seep through and save my soul.

To win the world and lose eternal glory?

Only a fool would accept this false profit.

The massima culpa to condemn me?

Fool me once, imperfect world, shame on me.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

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