Little Girl Dying

The tired moon slept somberly beneath the soft blanket of stars.

A little girl with a handful of nothing and a heart full of hope-

Softly in the silence of a dreamy night prays about a land bright and afar.

She sees Jesus in a picture frame that hangs on a slender nail above her bed.

And she whispers her heart to a God she can’t see that was raised from the dead.

She listens in the stony silence, and hears nothing but the soft beat of hear heart.

The light in the hallway through the half cracked door pierced the darkness into her room.

She imagined the light to be a ladder that stretched all the way to heaven.

And she thought in her young heart, that ladder she would climb soon.

Though she was only ten, she knew her time was near, yet she had no fear.

Her hair had fallen out from the medicine they had shot into her veins.

She wept, but not for herself, but for her mom who was not under crimsons stain.

I am ready to leave…she whispered to me…as soon…as soon as my mom believes.

J. Allen Wilson © 7/18/09