Autumn 2024

Chewing on Scripture

By E. C. Traganas

‘Your words were found and I ate them, 
And Your words became a joy to me 
and the delight of my heart’ 
— Jeremiah 15:16

The woman planted one fleshy leg onto the platform, then the other, gripped the handbars with determination and heaved herself up on the bus while the vehicle shuddered under her enormous weight. Shuffling laboriously down the aisle, she sprawled herself onto two side-facing seats and splayed her legs apart, jostling them up and down before settling herself in. She coughed, cleared her syrupy throat, mopped her forehead with a shredded tissue, took a puff from her handheld inhaler, then leaned back and closed her eyes. The sheen on her cheeks gleamed like a waxy sepia-toned carob pod.

Raising first one tree-trunk sized arm above her head then the other, she stretched both limbs, yawned, shifting her head back and forth like a ravenous lion, then let her arms drop.

“Y’ave gum?”she said to no one in particular, her soft-spoken voice a spoonful of blossom honey. “Hey,” she said again, this time addressing a young man facing her across the aisle, “I said, y’ave some gum?” The man looked flustered, played dumb, then decided to search his backpack. He pulled out a tiny cardboard box, reached out and trustingly handed it to her. 

Two or three passengers sitting nearby stared in fascination. Would she steal the box, they wondered. Would she take the gum and spill the entire contents into her greedy maul? Slowly, the woman held the box carefully, reached into it with pudgy thumb and index finger, fished out one square-shaped chiclet and handed the box back to the man. “Thanks,” she said softly as if confiding to an old friend. Her jaws started working the gum into a pliable bolus, and soon fell into a steady, rhythmical circular chewing motion. She closed her eyes, opened them again looking heavenwards, adjusted her black satin durag, leaned back folding her ample arms on her lap as if in prayer and exhaled deeply.  

“Lawd,” she suddenly muttered under her breath. The bus was cruising steadily, rolling along the ramp to the bridge spanning the sound. Sunshine glittered and sparkled on the azure water, prisms of light twinkling in silent benediction. “What a day,” she said mildly, chewing briskly. A silent hush fell over the few passengers who were staring out the windows, lulled by the cadenced lapping of waves. She coughed again, a tortured, hacking cough, spit the gum into her ragged tissue then took another prolonged puff from her inhaler.

‘Oh, Lawd, precious Lawd, take my hand…’  From under her whispered breath a startling threadlike melody emerged, pure, clean, a joyous seagull skimming over the pristine river water. One note blended into the next, rising in perfect intonation, ‘…lead me on, help me stand, I’ma tired, I’ma weak.’   So softly imperceptible, the melody filled the vehicle like a gentle lullaby, some passengers nodding their heads in time to the soothing rhythm. ‘I am worn through the storm, through the night…’  The woman’s features were beaming, a beatific smile framing her lips. ‘Mm, mm, mm…’ she hummed in a thin contralto, her straight, flawless tones pulsing and swaying like crystal wind chimes. ‘…Take my hand, Lawd, lead me home…lead me home…’  The shoreline was approaching, sailboats were tethered to the wharf bobbing gently in the water.

The bus glided down the bridge, clattered over the wooden deck, then stalled below an overhanging traffic light. Rousing herself, the woman pulled out a fresh tissue from her bag, wiped the perspiration from her face and prepared to disembark. Balancing herself as the bus kneeled at the stop, she hoisted herself up, turned to the young man and held out her hand in a plump fist-bump. “Y’ave a beautiful day,” she intoned with a broad smile as she waddled out the exit, the bus groaning and dipping before leveling itself and moving on.

About the Author


Author of the debut novel Twelfth House and Shaded Pergola, a collection of short poetry and haiku with original illustrations, E.C. Traganas has published in The San Antonio Review, The Brussels Review, The Penwood Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, Story Sanctum, Agape Review, The Society of Classical Poets, and countless other literary magazines. She enjoys a professional career as a Juilliard-trained concert pianist & composer, and is the founder/director of Woodside Writers, a literary forum based in New York. You can find her work at: www.elenitraganas.com. Shaded Pergola: Haiku & Other Short Poems With Illustrations https://a.co/d/dt81bEh