Sunday, October 12, 2008

I have to know her name.

I met a woman tonight.
I don't know her name.
For some reason, I didn't ask.

We were walking and her sign caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
It was typical: cardboard. Chicken scratch handwriting.
At first glance, the only thing I noticed was that word.


I looked again. Longer, this time.

"Tired of prostitution. In need of money."

I took a step.
My heart stopped.
A few more steps... and then my feet did the same.
I couldn't move.
I could barely breathe.

She has to know.
She has to know that there is still hope.
And I know she at least saw enough of it to make the step she already has.
But she has to know that there is more.
So much more.
Waiting to be embraced.
That SHE herself... whether she knows it or not... is simply waiting to be embraced.
She has to know that she is lovely.
She has to know that she is worth more than this.
More than that.
More than feet that shuffle past her, or the men that use her and toss her away.
More than the scornful looks, and judging glances.
More than those who ignore her because they would rather her not exist... and her story not be true.

She has to know.

I search my wallet.
I turn around.
I walk to her.
I hand her the bill.
I look in her eyes.

"I want you to know that I'm really proud of your decision."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

I touch her hand.

"You're going to be okay..."

I walk away.

Her eyes.
I can't forget them.
They were so sad... yet right on the brink of something.
On the very edge of hope.

It's two thirty in the morning.
I can't stop thinking about her.

Please, Jesus.
Please let her be there again tomorrow.
I will go back.
I will look for her.
Please just let her not have moved.

I have to know her name.


Asher Crasher said...

My god! What an incredible experience!

This story, her story. Purely beautiful.

I long...

kabloona said...

This was good.