The Child’s body rocked back and forth to the sea waves. Each time one passed under the lily pad, up she would go and then back down again. She giggled. It was exciting. A lily pad on a big ocean steering itself by the velocity of the waves. Unbelievable, she thought.
As far as her eyes could see, she saw nothing. No cargo ships, no birds, no passenger cruise ships with people leaning on the railings waving, and no airplanes flying to different destinations. An empty world lay before her eyes, and the Child felt she was sailing in a never-ending vacuum.
“Where is everything, Prophet?”
The Prophet, who was sitting in the opposite corner of the giant lily pad behind her, took in the child's drooping shoulders. Ready to help her find answers to questions that he wouldn’t give her. “What do you mean, Child with where’s everything?”
“I don’t see any ships,” she said, “moving across the waters and no airplanes in the air. Where are they?”
“Do you miss them, Child?”
“Of course, I do. That’s why I’m asking you?”
“Oh.”
“So, where are they, Prophet?”
“Resting,” said the Prophet.
“Resting, Prophet? I don’t understand.”
“They're in their harbors or wherever they should be, Child.”
“But why?”
“Might be a result of consequences.”
“Consequences, Prophet? And what kind of consequences would cause such calmness on the ocean.”
“That you must ask the human beings who populate the earth,” the Prophet replied.
“Oh, I know what you’re talking about,” the Child said, huffily.
“Really?” the Prophet responded. “Tell me what I’m talking about. “
“About the homeless children stuck in war zones as live targets with no way of escaping and borders being closed. But don’t people have a right to protect what theirs?”
The Prophet chuckled. Fascinated by the Child’s naivety.
“Since when have we become owners of the world, Child? We are all strangers passing through. None of this we can take with us.”
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
