Monday, August 31, 2009

A Broken Vessel

One night in 2008, she sat next to the aisle of a church. Somewhere inside her, her heart fluttered with delight. She could not understand; she could not tell; there was this inexpressible joy that await to lift her up. All that surrounded her, she searched slow. Nothing was found, nothing was revealed. Vain, she thought, smiling off that flicker of hope.
In that very moment of silent retreat, ...

A synchronized orchestra of piano strings played the Wedding Song. As if He lifted her head up with His hand, she looked up. That nailed hand touched her. She backed, gripped by transgressions. Unfit for, she felt herself cry. He smiled, offered His hand. She looked, long at it.
So long her eyes stared at His hand, indecisive. Staring, still staring, her gown dubbed with dusts; the bells worn cracks of faithful ringing.
Vibrant as it was yesterday, yet a stiff statue at liberty... broken and drained was her vessel.