Wounded Hearts

   The night was dark. He sat on a broken down step dimly lit by the street light not too far away. The faded, plaid coat he was wearing was torn, dirty, and old. He hunched his shoulders against the bite of the wind and clutched the icy cold bottle in his hand. A thin skiff of snow covered the ground all around him. His thoughts were bleary, despondent. When they see me, all they see is a drunk; just another drunk plodding along, getting in to trouble, being a nuisance. He lifted the bottle and took a gulp, then swallowed convulsively. Hits gonna be cold tonight. They don’t see me as a human. They don’t see no warm heart ticking inside, longing for something better, never having a chance, don’t know how to find it…My Daddy was a drunk, my Momma was a harlot… an’ here I am. He didn’t know a tear had trickled down his cheek until he felt the cold wetness. Wish I knew where to go.

                For just a moment he felt a soft breeze, just a breath of warmth as it were as an angel swept by and touched him on the shoulder. Tears filled his eyes once more, but this time they were different. He saw no one, but a feather of hope had drifted down and caressed his mangled heart.

    Yeah, maybe there is something better out there. I’ll just keep looking. And another thought came from he knew not where; and praying.


                She also was huddled that cold, dark night but at least she had a bed. A warm, cozy bed in a lovely room, but as her eyes stared into the darkness she felt trapped; like she was in a cage. She chewed nervously on her nails, and since that didn’t help, grabbed a soft, plump teddy bear and squeezed it tightly against her body. Will he come again?  His visits were sporadic, irregular and she never knew when IT would happen. Would it be tonight? Every night she lay, with the covers to her chin, wide eyed, staring at the door waiting, fearing that it would creak open and she would see the lustful eyes of him peering at her. She heard a step and the sound of the door knob turning. Soon his evil claws were tearing once more at her garments no matter how hard she tried to silently clutch them. She never forgot how he had threatened to kill her if she screamed. She “floated” up to the ceiling and watched HIM molest the frightened little girl on the bed.

                The angels folded their wings, and weeping, begged to come to her rescue. But no, that was the human’s job. God was trying to get their attention.


                He replayed the scene over and over in his mind. “Bully!” someone had yelled, “Bully, bully, bully!” before whirling away and hiding in the school building. But that was all the help he received. Everyone else was afraid of HIM. The youngster gently fingered his nose. It was broken alright, but at least it had stopped bleeding. He had snuck into his bedroom, afraid someone might see it, but no one was around. Mom hadn’t come home from work, yet, and their father had abandoned them long ago. Sister wasn’t around either. No one kept track of their comings and goings. He pulled out a dog eared note book and a text book. I really want to do well in school so I can help Mom someday. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t even see the words because of the tears that blurred the page. Tomorrow would be just the same, unless HE found someone else to bully. And the next day…and the next…

      The small, skinny boy wiped his glasses and stared out into the night. He should have been asleep long ago, but dreaded trying because of the nightmares that were sure to haunt him.

   Oh, if only there was someone, someplace where I could be safe.

Jesus said: “Come unto me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

 Come to Jesus. He is reaching out his arms to you if you are troubled or burdened in anyway. He will help you.

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