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On the Third Day

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

“On the Third Day” by Brandon Reese

“On the Third Day” by Erika Gore

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