Cancer

Sometimes, the drama at the bank is not loud or boisterous. Sometimes, the drama is only something that catches my attention.

A man visited the bank today. One of Karan's second generation customers. I knew that his body must have been in incredible pain by the way that he walked. As he slowly pushed the door open, I greeted him and smiled. Shaking his hand was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I didn't want him to hurt any more. But I knew there was nothing I could do but encourage him in the simplest way I knew how.
I only smiled.

After he left Karen told me that Stan is in his 30's and that he has been battling cancer for only a small bit of time.
I am reminded at the frailty of man. He is "a breath that passes away and does not come again." (Psalm 78:39)

Cancer
The hand pressed firm against mine.
Cancerous.
A face in the prime of life
Yet, old eyes.

Death prowls.
And His demons whisper
To our souls.
I reached out in love
We all swim the same river.
Bodies ridden with disease
And souls in need of hope.

I smiled in friendliness
He thanked me
I watched him walk away
And breathed a prayer.

What about tomorrow?
Will I see him again?