I know you’re probably thinking;
“What in the world is she on about this time?”
“Writing isn’t for you, shut your face”
But I swear you should see them.
The three of them,
Sitting in the same place every morning,
1am. 2am. 3am. 4am. 5am. 6am.
Saying the same things, praying to the same God or different gods. I can’t be too certain. But I’m certain of some things though. These women were old and thorough. Old as in they were heavily weathered, as in leather skin, missing teeth, balding hair.
Thorough as in in their prayers. You see unlike the rest of us they did not allow the flimsy human construct of religion hinder their prayers and so rakat after rakat, worship after worship, deliverance after deliverance, fire after fire. They kept at it.
1am. 2am. 3am. 4am. 5am. 6am
Maybe in this sense they were wise.
Wise as in they never gave up.
Morning after morning they’d stagger out, mouths hungry, bones frail and fragile, eyes red from lack of sleep.
Each morning they’d wake up and pray to their God to end their suffering, to deliver them.
“Allahu Akbar”
“Die by fire!”
“Covenant Keeping God, there is no one like you”
“Hail Mary…….”
“Are you done? Is that all?”
“Keep your voices down God is not deaf”
Sometimes I think that maybe they are deaf,
Maybe.
Maybe they are the ones that can’t seem to hear.
But I can’t tell, you see. I don’t know
Another thing I’m not certain about… is if they’re real.
