after so much dialogue about prayer this past week i was wondering what aunt bea thought about all this public combat on religious observances so i stopped by on my way home from work she said public prayer lets folks know you have something in common with them or serves as a how great i art vulgar marketing ploy but private prayer lets you have an uninterrupted conversation with the divine it makes folks feel better to have expressed what is already known one thing’s for sure prayer for power is not the same as the power of prayer
did you know that blood on cold pavement exhales a mist as if a soul is departing the scene sears into the mind like acid unforgettable no matter how hard you try that body that soul lies before you on black pavement as you await the ambulance it’s in those moments that death becomes real altering the course of your thoughts on the permanency of anything
crossing the railroad tracks the pastor arrived at an old post-war bungalow residence of miss maybel who in her prime was much sought after by a number of the town’s most charming and handsome men of color but she had said no to all saying i’ve fought for women’s rights civil rights and looked after white folks’ homes and their children so i don’t have time or energy to look after anyone else but myself age took her suitors some time ago as well as most of her women friends she didn’t make it to good friday service so pastor decided to stop by she didn’t answer the door but it was open calling in he thought he heard her so he entered pale sitting in a chair was maybel death even makes a man of god stop and evaluate life but he quickly resumed his role and asked if she was ready to meet her maker with her last inaudible breath she answered
the police report noted the beast was concealed surprised witnesses claim worship was quite normal but just outside the entry faith’s face was strewn on the ground
