I’m cold and shivering.
I pull my sweater closer around myself with shaking hands.
The sound of the pattering rain sends me drifting in and out of daydreams.
I am trapped on this sickbed- my strength diminishing as viruses tear apart my antibodies, leaving me helpless.
My blood temperature rises,then my body struggles to maintain homeostasis.
Breathing feels like suffocating,
Every breath I take sounds like canon blades.
My organs are flirting with death and playing with life.
My heart dancing on its own, abandoning its’ rhythm.
I’m not complaining, I’m just explaining.
For some reason, I still have hope.
Like a little firefly, although it’s a tiny ray of light; it leads through the dark.
“You are doing better today,” she says.
I just laugh, pain woven in each crackle but strength falling as tears in between gasps of breath.
I laugh because it’s my life jacket, saving me from drowning in pity and sorrow.
“How do you do it? How do you stay strong?” she asks
” My secret is simple- I pray.”
Then I stare at the raindrops hitting the ground through the window.
“Look dear, look at how the rain connects the clouds and the ground bringing life and happiness but when the connection is disrupted , there’s death and destruction. The ground cannot survive without rain.That’s prayer.”
“You’re getting it now, don’t you?
You have to be one with Life Himself.
Through prayer, you will be amazed with every encounter.
My chapped lips twitch in a smile.
Yes, I’ve been breathing with a bullet down my throat,
But,hey , I’m still alive.
They say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Of all the things that anyone could ever experience ,
Why do we always need to learn with the painful ones?
Let prayer be your first response,
Not your last resort.