Hadi Atallah

God’s love rebounds softly from the side of a golden tray. 

The tray may grow dark and dangerous. 

It’s worth the world if you knew Krav Maga. 

And I was helpless to protect myself. 

Then the man behind the desk said, “I’m a fool, I know but my offer stands. I still offer a decent pay for this golden tray.”

Every strange terrible mile was frightening. But I went with God.

It was shadowy and dreadful.

“I will fight this thing.”

“I will win over it.”

“I will have my chance.”

So carefully did I work, until I moved the golden tray into the fireplace.

The fire crackled and hissed. And its glow was dulled by their emotion.

There was no sense of preservation, until now.

But the tray had turned into silver, still cuts through this fool’s manness and save us all…

…This dark shiny fluid leaking is what’s left of the gold.