Monday, November 15, 2010

"Son of David!" Part 2

The older man dangled like a wind worn flag carelessly attached to its post by threads.  They tripped forward in obvious fear for their footing and toppled headlong at the roadside.  Shamefully bruised pride acknowledged bruised knees and shoulders.  The helping hand had released them instantly.  No words.  
Titch.  Titch.  The younger pawed about for his cane.  The older discovered the city wall with his own.  The two sympathetic bodies grasped for one another and pulled themselves against the cool stone.  Better to beg at the break of day before hellish heat drove them to seek shelter.  Dawn would greet the merchant parade into Jericho…
An over-burdened camel came up on his left.  Too close for comfort.  The younger pulled in his feet.  Darker darkness suggested its shadow hung directly above the beggars’ heads.  Screech, swish and caw.  Exotic wings beat their cages.  How close?  Eee-yaaa!  They preyed upon his sensitive ears and hissed at his sightly ignorance.  You can’t see me.  I haunt your fearful world of guesses.  The older covered his side pocket filled with nuts and date cakes.  The steady hum of bickering conversation exploded with financial capitalization.  The two blind men could not avoid following the sound of monetary exchange. Their faces winced with embarrassment.  While two men bartered heartily, wholly satisfied with their means and gains, two blind men faded into the dirty walls holding out perfectly capable hands to beg for their means and gains.  
“Have Mercy.  Have Mercy.”  Others would collide and conflict, work and worry in a very desirable way while these two would gather from their heavy purses meager wages.  Some were generous.  Poor souls.  Others envious.  Why should I work hard and give my money away?  Often they spoke their opinions aloud.  Naturally, these must be fully disabled idiots forgotten by Israel’s God - blind, therefore, too dumb to speak well or decipher language.  
Whether shown pity or contempt, whether treated humanely or bitterly, begging was burdensome.  The soul sat around.  It was weighted with grief born of its own desire to collide and conflict, to work and worry.  The cares of this world - of family and houses, stock and trade - represented normalcy and freedom in a way the seeing man might take for granted.  O that my hands could work!  O that my tongue could barter and my ingenuity trade!  O that I could be frustrated in relating!  O that I could join the drama of humanity for a single day!  O that I could build a home and lead a camel to the city gate!  
Money is not Mercy.  No, Mercy is more… .it unburdens the soul…

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