I've grown tired in my old age
At one time, I could walk that two mile stretch like I was walking from my front porch to the garden
But now I rest every few steps
The work I've done all these years have twisted my bones
I dream of sleep and beg Jesus to awaken me with a kiss in the morning
It was during Lent, my soul began to itch
I used to watch old ladies in black kneel down before a shrine to pray
You see them weeping
Beating their chests with a rosary wrapped around their hands
I wonder what they pray for?
More years
Death
Forgiveness for a sin that happened so long ago nobody remembers except her and God
Once I saw a woman kneel and pray before a shrine that was nailed to a tre
Nothing unusual about that, except we all thought this woman was a witch, or crazy
She was praying for sanity, no dobut
I want my life to begin
I'm told these dry times are good, spiritual
Like walking with Jesus in the desert
Well, my legs hurt, I'm thirsty, and I'm not God
But I do know in my simple kitchen mind that all things- good things come from God
From my mother's garden, I make a garland and walk solemnly in the forest, kneel on hard ground and pray
No tears fell
No voices heard
Silence, only silence
I left the garland as an offering, hoping Mary would find it acceptable
The walk home was slow
Halfway through the forest, Jesus took my hand
And together we walked home on a new path
