On our way to the prison, I asked.
Who is that man?
That man?
Yes.
He's just some deaf man.
He comes every Saturday and Michael gives him money to buy food for the week.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Like Christ
A deaf man came and sat outside st. Joseph's today. Quietly, patiently, he waited. Hours passed, and he talked softly, to himself, aware that no one understood him. As I walked through the gate and to the car, he grabbed my wrist. Pointing his hand to the car, and then to the sky. He clasped my hands in his, and fell to his knees. Praying.
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