The Crying Child

As the child cried in church
the young mother’s head fell
in grief. “Not again,” she
thought to herself.

The congregation turned,
people looked, and
the reverence was
shattered.

Some people felt sympathy,
others felt apathy,
and quite a few
felt annoyed.

THe minister nodded
and the mother got up
and took the child outside
and sat on the churches
front stoop,

The warm summer breeze
came across the child
as sweet smell summer
wheat and fresh-cut grass
filled the air.

The mother looked
and listened to morning
birds singing their
own sunday hymns and
the sun baptizing
the earth with its
warm embrace.

Her child was then silent.

The mother held him in her
arms and as she looked
down at his little observing eyes.

“I wonder what your little
head is thinking.”

His little fingers were reaching
up towards her, and his little chants
of giggles and coos pouring
from his now seemingly joyous
face.

“You know little guy,
I’d rather be sitting out here
with you anyway,”
she told him,

and his eyes glimmered as
he looked up at God.

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