The Blind Beggar: Part XXXII

Working at the kitchen sink, Amal prepared dinner for her family.  She glanced out the window toward the Mediterranean.  The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the rays forcefully shone all around them.  It was a striking scene which prompted Amal to hurry onto the balcony to take a picture before the moment was gone.  There was no time to write about the paradise before her.  Instead, she stood and let it soak into her pores.  She would pen a description in a few hours. 

She was pleased there were no remarks about marriage during dinner.  Everything seemed back to normal.  When it was time to begin her evening blog post, Amal brought her phone with her and sat at the computer.  She turned it on and opened the app for photographs.  As usual when she snapped a picture of the sky, it was a poor resemblance of what she saw.  It was merely a dull reflection.  Hence, she was happy she took a moment to absorb the moment. 

Fearsome power bold and bright
Fluffly cloud obscures the light
Burning tendrils stretch high and low
Reaching sky and earth below

Waters calm, a deep cold blue
Reflecting sun, a brilliant hue
Yellow extends to globe beneath
Halo above, a bridal wreath

Sun beyond which gives us life
Pierces all with sharpened knife
Cumulous cloud right on that spot
Covering sun a darkened blot

Surrounding clouds bow to the one
Bold enough to dull the sun
Azure, yellow and crimson too
All above the ocean so blue

Boulos felt his heart burn him as he read the words penned by Jo March.  She didn’t normally write her sunset descriptions in such a poetic form.  They were always very descriptive and often lyrical but this post spoke to him.  To Boulos, it was majestic.  It was a mortal giving praise to God. 

Each line was read aloud. Then Boulos closed his eyes and repeated the phrase.  With the eyes of his blindness, he formed pictures in his mind.  The scene was striking.  He saw a cloud blocking the sun.  Off to each side were other clouds, the rays of the sun striking below them to give the appearance they were bent over in humbleness.  His mind saw a buttery hue around the top of the cloud with white and gray streaks to the blue sea.

He marveled at Jo March’s prowess.  She was a wonderful and descriptive writer.  After reflecting on the heavenly scene, he heard Amal’s voice speaking each verse.  This stirred and pained him.  He sent Jo March a comment thanking her for a wonderful and poetic description of the sky.  She later replied with a simple thank you.

“Where did you learn to describe the sky so accurately, so heavenly?”
          “Just practice, I guess.  I’ve looked at the sky and described them since I was a girl.”

His heart began to pound.  He was certain it was Amal.  Jo March and Amal were the same in that they described sunsets since they were young but Boulos’s heart told him the identity of the write.  It was Amal.  He considered his next step.  Jesus said to knock and the door would be opened.  He placed his next act in God’s hand.  He would simply knock.  If the door opened, he would step through.  It if didn’t, he would move on. 

He typed, “Is your name Amal?”