Sounds of Hope

I've not written for a very long time.  I say I'll start again, and then I don't.  This morning I saw a random picture.  The caption said prom pictures - the picture an innocent looking girl.  Something stirred as I looked at that picture in seconds, this is what poured out of me: She is sixteen; she is a child. She wears a satin dress. She longs for love. She holds her daddy’s hand as she did as a child in Brooklyn. She walks with him as so many strolls in a park lined with trees. She feels the exhilaration of a push on a swing that takes her high, higher than the sky. She feels the fear of climbing to the top of the monkey bars. She hears music – it reminds her of the tune announcing the Mr. Softee truck – a treat awaits. She hears music – it reminds her of Salem where she learned about Jesus. A future awaits her. Someone has chosen her; she must finally be worthy.  She is finally wanted. Her daddy hands her to the boy at the end ...