At first, I mistook my vulnerability for proof— proof that I was the better one. A jolt of Schadenfreude . When it came closer to home, I allowed myself to feel the pain. Same suffering. Different hearts. My prejudice, simply a mask for that old ache: “ Am I enough? ” Now, SCREAMING INTO MY SOUL. The moment I felt ground less ness. But Prayer brought me Home. A Prayer to feel — her pain. And hers. To cradle...
I pick exactly two strands of the sun's rays and tie them into a bow. A present for that old man sitting out on his porch. I walk up to him and hand over the gift. He attempts to smile but is so grief-stricken that his muscles merely twitch. He pauses for a moment, then says, " What gift? ". I sit down beside him, watching people go by - gadgets in hand - completely cut off from the world. It is a sad sight from where we sit. He begins to recount his days from the past - playing cricket with his neighborhood friends, finding the love of his life, bearing children, and then his wife's eventual death. I listen empathically. He expresses sadness in how no one cares any more; that he sees no purpose to life now. There is a moment of silence before which he exclaims, " I feel the light! ". I leave the old man and walk into the darkness of the night. A youngster - perhaps 20-21? - is about to snort a drug up his nose, but stops midway as he sees me. He rolls u...