Stay

A prisoner called to tell me of a letter received from the Governor: A Stay of Execution. This prisoner will not die in the springtime, his date postponed until … who can know? We were silent on the telephone, only our breath to say we were there. Cars drove by, a dog barked, someone walked the hallway, then the silence returned. There are times when no words will serve, only that we listen for the infinite and the ineffable, imbedded somewhere in the silence. In time, a small prayer came. I spoke words, we whispered our amens, and our call ended.