I whispered, “I’m sick,” but no one heard.
I became louder and you heard, but you suggested a cure.
I told you in frustration that your suggestion wouldn’t work. The pain was unbearable.
“I know it will work,” you insisted.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I’m dying here. Please help me.”
“I am helping. Calm down. You’re only hurting yourself more,” now you’re shouting, too.
“If only you’d listened,” I say with the smoking gun in my hand. The pain courses through my body. I whence. I whimper. I cry out. The weapon tumbles out of my weak hand onto the floor.
My final breath exhales the question, “What if you were right all along?”
Categories: Discouraged Parable Speaking truth
Douglas Knight
I have the rich life full of a sinner wounded by misunderstanding and punishment but blessed by mercy and forgiveness.
Knight Writer 