3 o’clock. Hour for Christian prayer…
The old neighborhood church was bereft of any souls…
Only one lonely soul could be seen huddled in front of the altar. She would be in this stupor everyday at this hour. Alone. Quiet. Sitting with her eyes closed. Rosary in hand. Tears wetting her peachy complexion. Only the Lord, to whom she cried out, knew what lamented her.
Quietly, she would leave the church by the next hour. Without once looking at the old grandfather church clock, she would come to know the time she had to leave. She would straighten herself from her huddle and with downcast eyes exit from the side door. This was her habit since last six weeks.
She saw no one and no one saw her…
Or so she thought…
But there was another lonely soul who noticed her every afternoon. From the time she had started this afternoon ritual, this lonely gentle soul observed her. He was the owner of the undertaker shop adjacent to the old church. He could see each and every being going in and coming out. But he had eyes only for her. Only her going in and coming out…
He didn’t know her but waited expectantly every afternoon. She didn’t see him and he saw only her. And what he saw was a sad and beautiful countenance bereft of emotions.
Oh, how he loves her. Oh, how he wants to make her his own. But how could he when she didn’t even look up. Oh, how it pains him to see her passing by day after day without even a glance towards him.
Oh, how his soul longs for her…
Oh, what laments her…?
No comments:
Post a Comment