we were born to see what is perfect
and to hear what is perfect.

in the beginning, we know it
but the knowledge dissolves fast
and we spent the rest of our lives forgetting

.....

Jairus had a 12 year old daughter. She was lying in bed, warm with blankets in the dark room. Just a little bit of light fell on her face. It was a soft face, eyes closed, mouth closed. There was the sound of crying, sobbing. A murmur of voices and groans. She lay with both her arms at her sides. Her chest did not go up and down from breath. She was still.

Jesus came in. He sat next to her. He looked at her. He remembered her skinny legs and tangled hair, tied back. He remembered how when she was younger she ran with the older girls through the dust, watching them play games and whisper loudly, giggling. He remembered when she shot sly glances across the synagogue to her friend on the other side of the room...a playful knowing smirk. He remembered when her mother placed her weathered hands on hers, and gently pressed them into the dough, pressing it down and out across the table. And how she looked back into her mother's eyes and smiled, a stand of hair hanging down across her face.

Jesus sighed, a small smile, a warm eye. He took her hand....