"Whisper" (Word of God)

Whispering Whisper, so fragile and delicate.
Listening Listen, If I'm breathing I'll miss It.
Singing Sing, the song of a baby's sleep.
Whispering Whisper, still, calm, Dangerous!

The Brick Wall

I was walking down the street today, when I encountered a brick wall. There was nothing different about this brick wall and maybe that is why it stood out. No graffiti and no signs were seen, simply brick and mortar. The wall was tall, way above my head. Even if I jumped or climbed I could not have seen over the top. I stood there looking, just staring at this wall when all of a sudden a little boy came up and stood next to me.
At first I gave little thought to the boy because I was so engrossed with the wall but when he tugged at my pants leg and questioned what I was looking at, I told him, "I was just wondering what was on the other side of this wall." He studied the wall and then without missing a beat he exclaimed, "It's a park!" With that he ran on down the street and I was left with my thoughts about what this park was like. I could only imagine it was a park with a playground and children and a pond with ducks and fish. I began to smile as I envisioned mothers running after their kids as they chased the ducks. I could almost smell the mouth watering aroma of a picnic with fried chicken. The trees would be swaying in the wind and the sun was extra golden this day.
While I stood there beaming ear to ear with an array of thoughts of childhood memories, an elderly woman approached me. She was old and wrinkled; her back was bent from years of hard labor. She was not smiling in fact she looked almost to be frowning. Her eyes were dark and hollowing, looking her in the face almost made me shiver. "What are you looking at, young man?" she asked. Her voice was sharp and contained a strong accent. "I was just wondering what was on the other said of this wall," I said. She looked at the wall and then without missing a beat she exclaimed, "It reminds me of the wall around the concentration camp." With that she wondered out of sight and I was left to stare at the walk. The wall did have a menacing appearance about it. All of a sudden I was gripped by such a sorrow; the smell of smoke filled my nostrils. I could just envision Jews running here and there as the Nazi's pushed and shoved. I saw even little old lady's being forced to move heavy stones. A tear ran down my cheek as the sounds of machine guns filled my mind. Why did there have to be such hatred?
Time passed but I just stood there, my cheeks still wet with tears, when then I notice a business man stood near extending a handkerchief for me to dry to eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked. I simply told him, "I was just wondering what was on the other side of this wall." He looked at the wall and then with out missing a beat he exclaimed, "It's a bank." Looking at his watch he quickly walked off saying something about a meeting, and once again I was alone at the wall. In my mind I could just see the bank, it was big and tall. There was a clock on the front of the building right above the words, "First National Bank." People in suits kept running in and out. The sounds of their wing tipped shoes on the pavement filled my ears along with a ringing of a telephone. Everyone was moving so fast. I stood up straight and fixed my clothes. It is important to look ones best when going to the bank. I straightened my tie, though I was not wearing one, I even stuck out my hand as if to give a firm hand shake. As I did I was bumped into by a priest.

The priest was a man of average stature, his robe was black and a cross hung around his neck. What are you doing my child? he asked with such calmness of voice. “I was just wondering what was on the other side of this wall.” He looked at the wall and then glanced up toward Heaven, “It’s a church,” he exclaimed and then he moved on down the road. “A church,” I thought what a novel idea. No wonder this wall had caught my attention so. Beyond this brick was the glory of God Himself. The birds knew this, which was why they were chirping so beautifully. They were singing a song to our Heavenly King. I began to hum the tune, “Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me…” In my mind the choir echoed off the wall and the priest delivered a fiery message. I started to shout, “Halleluiah,” but then I came to. It was just me and the wall.

Time had passed and the sun was fleeting fast. But something inside of me was not satisfied. Something was not right. I no longer could imagine a park or a death camp or a bank or even a church. My mind began to wonder a much more simple thought. What if, on the other side of this wall was simply another person like me? Just wondering what lied mere feet away. We were so close yet we were worlds apart. I touched the wall, it was rough and gritty, and it was cool with the air of the evening. And then I wondered, if we would ever meet.