A Hundred Words

She marveled at his elocutionary manner of speaking gained from his Oxonian education. She watches his lips against the contrast of very dark skin, like a South African shrub having its swollen succulent stem and bearing showy pink flowers after the leaves fall with movements as popular as ornamental in tropics. He is Opel the German industrialist who is assembling lines together like troops proving their talents to be important, in building and manufacturing the design of their architect. This Opel's Architect is the Great Architect sitting from a panoptical position; the designer of the beauty of the Universe inclusive of country bump kin Homo sapiens who are surprisingly related to the uptown family of Hominidae, society people characterized by superior intelligence, articulate speech and erect carriage.

Then there is perpetuity in the stride of his words which brings you to be amazed by the language he is speaking because he knows the Language fluently and wants you to learn the language too.  It is not English although he did his A levels in England, it is Spanish. He teaches that it is not memorizing or learning words. Instead he reiterates many poems and melodies, harmonizing to various songs he knows in Spanish and will not forget. In this he found a true métier and is already practitioner of his studies. His design is in the building of young minds, the young choirs of toddlers pool their voices and Spanish tunes flow from their lips as they did from his. He is in the house of the Great Architect whose design is the same in the Great House above. Soon afterward, when he switches back to his native tongue Jamaican English; his speech becomes methodical and at one moment he stops as though he remembers his slain father or maybe he stops to think about what happens when he sees his mom cooking by the house he still lives in with his mother and brother. He remembers something that brings forth much emotion to his face but not in his voice anymore. He does not study in Jamaica anymore and hasn’t really since as a junior in high school.

This Vision is moving, when the church applauds and says “Amen” and nighttime has drawn the service to an end, kids are idly talking and I flitter about in a flittering way to him. His eyes dance at another opportunity to talk about God’s love. He is Archimandrite the girlfriendless, wifeless, young adorer of God, the only woman in his life is his biological mother or the one talked about in the Revelations; the one who will come down adorned has a bride. This discourse is visited by another young man with perennial bad moods. It is his brother, a boy I did not get the chance to teach but I know he would have been a blessing to me as a student. He complains of a bad neck and a bad phone or a bad leg. I got confused. He is standing taller than his brother looking like the older brother and quite a man. Like my tall adorable almost full Caucasian college crush who spoke French to me in his car as I waited with him outside my Aunt’s home. These are men but one is not yet an adult. These are men because they remind me of a character I will love completely for eternity I promise you- a man died on a cross for the sins of the world including mine. These are men in my eyes because they do God’s will. These are men because God’s commandments are not always hard to keep.

The End

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