Judgment Day

I traveled to a small town this morning to meet a client. I had to go to his workplace which was in a Family Court courthouse. I arrived just before nine in the morning… just before the activity of the day had begun. I walked passed a group of men… they were huddled together like teenagers. They were smoking nervously… chatting quietly. You could smell the thick residue in the air of spent smoke and cigarette filters.

I was patient as I was ushered through security. The metal detector seemed out of place. It was the only visible item of a modern era. There were police officers gathered by a small detention room. I peered through the glassed opening to see a woman sitting on a wooden bench. She looked dazed… her hair was unwashed and her orange jumpsuit was wrinkled and baggy. She sat chewing on her fingers… unaware or unconcerned that someone may be watching.

As I waited, I looked around. There were no smiles… there was no calm. There was a random energy that floated above the floor. The room was filled with ill-fitting clothing and denim. The women held their handbags close. The waiting area was filling up, so I claimed a seat next to a woman. She seemed uncomfortable and shifted her weight away from me.

There was group of attorneys collecting at another doorway… they were the only individuals that seemed to have a purpose. They were overdressed in this arena and I felt offended by their, perhaps unintentional arrogance. The judge walked through the room as if he was in a play. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone but I could tell that he knew all eyes were on him. His hair had been colored an unnatural brown. His shoes were glossy black and I wondered why there were no signs of wrinkles on his flowing robe. He barked at a bailiff as he passed through his doorway into the court.

I searched for anyone at rest… anyone at ease. I felt myself pulling the energy from the room and I shifted my legs. All eyes were down… there was worry pulling at the walls. A young lady quietly sobbed as her elderly mother held her head. Men shifted at paperwork… quietly rearranging their order. I found one person uninfected by this weight… a small infant that jabbed at plastic keys that hung from her mother’s tired fingers.

I left heavy-hearted. I pulled the outside air deep within my lungs and made my way back through the small town streets… pondering the welfare of so many unknown faces…

                                                                                            Shannon R Killman