Hilcias in the Belly of the Whale

from trevor’s encyclopedia of beautiful things

Hilcias climbed the steps of the broken down school bus and pushed the metal frame around the cracked glass of the folding door.

“You know,” he thought, “A bus is kind of shaped like a whale.”

 

He stood inside the bus and thought about being in the belly of a whale.

Darkness with just a hint of light.

Silence with just a hint the sound of breathing breaths from ship sized lungs.

Small pieces of sounds.

Echoes of an inner world.

He felt words rise up inside him that his abuelo taught him when it was getting dark and he was alone.

God

here

I am,

barefooted,

open hearted. Walk

with me, write with me migrant God.

Dust on my feet, callous on my hand, you are here God.

He sat down on the ground in the belly of his whale and thought these words from a place deep in his heart.

A feeling came over him like the feeloing of an old blanket his abuela sewed for him years and miles ago.

Gently.

Tenderly.

With love.

“Why am I here?” he thought.

He heard a still, small voice in the belly of the whale.

"To be, Hilcias.

To be Hilcias.

That is enough.”

He sighed a prayer of thanks.

He smiled.

In the belly of the whale.