THE VIRGINIA NORMAL

by Ronae Redwine

I am not a praying woman
It’s not a habit I try to make
But one evening I needed to pray
So I dropped down to my knees
feeling guilty for doing it
because I don’t do it
until I need it

I didn’t know if anyone could hear me
nor did I know if they cared what I had to say
But Annabeth was in a hospital bed
And had a son learning to walk
while learning that mommy
will not do it with him
because her spine had been broken into two

There was a woman with beautiful eyes
and swooping lashes that rested on swollen cheeks
that were blackened, bloody, and bruised
With machines and tubes and wires
pumping air into deflated lungs
Organs that were mangled beyond repair
That couldn’t be saved even with a prayer

So I said
Father who art in heaven
I’m not a praying woman
it’s not a habit I try to make
But I am humble, broken, beseeching
and begging you
that Annabeth
pretty eyes and swooping lashes and all
once again wake

I waited a day
Then I waited two
I needed an ending to a story
and an answer to a prayer
And on the third day
in the end
Annabeth pulled through