Thursday, April 29, 2010
What’s that pile of rags on the street?
Someone stands harriedly - on the phone - and animated.
Wait! It’s not just clothes! Is that a body??
We must pull over.
I get out, and am drawn to the crumpled figure on the pavement.
Very still, I crouch down and place my hand on- HER- hand. Warmth.
And even though she is so still, I know she still lives. I feel for the steady baseline pulse and place my hand on her back. It rises and falls ever so slightly.
Someone is yelling, “They’ll be here soon! Is she conscious?” No, but her breathing becomes visible, like that of a body in pain.
Soon, they are here, and I bow out of the picture.
But for a minute, my hand rested with love on her back, and I called out softly into her ears.
I was privileged to come along side and just be
And we went on our way.