SecondHandSaintsblog

how often

i had

confused your

outstretched hands

as a gesture of your

need for me.

i thought your words,

your poetry,

were songs my soul

could sing and dare

to dream again.

I thought your

whispered promises

would cradle and comfort

the hurts of my brain.

i had convinced

myself

that you were sharing

in affection,

when in fact,

you were

just leading me along.

looking back,

through the years

i see the tears,

and the constant

tug of pulling apart.

i see just how close to the

edge

i was spinning.

misreading so many things.

seeing love where

there was only pain.

those long stretches

of stoic silence

where you just

stared ahead…

never once looking

into my eyes,

sad reflections

that just longed to gaze

and drink from your’s.

i realize now,

there was never a chain

that linked us together,

nor a tether that tied

your heart to mine…

it was simply

one lonely soul

seeking a bit

of solace from

solitude’s smothering

embrace.

i want, Oh Lord,

to allow You

to guide not only my heart,

but also my feet,

and my hands.

i want to allow You

to remove from

my mind

every thought

every word

that is contrary

to Your plan.

i want to allow You

every last bit

of me… all that I am.

my joys and satisfactions.

my anguish and my pains.

Oh Lord, though I try

to transform

it cannot begin,

until I understand

that most of my

‘allowing You’

is really me

tying Your hands.

mere hours into

an eternity of days

and my soul

is consumed in silence.

not the rich, deep

contemplative quiet

where saints are

formed and reared.

just the quietness

of ordinary days.

days where thoughts

fall too far back

into the crevices,

and caverns,

of the brain.

a place too vast,

still numbed with pain.

I haven’t yet the courage

or the strength

to crawl in there

to retrieve them.

like a handful of

released balloons,

all thoughts seem

to escape me.

staring straight

into distance,

i do not know

whether I am

glimpsing into the

future,

or gazing into the past.

for in these moments of

utter solitude,

a paradox is birthed.

in my mind,

in this beginning

of forever,

time has both stopped

and lapsed.

the clock ticks on….

it is almost two,

a mist of rain gathers

in drops….that drip… drop…

dark….

puddles spread

into shadows,

that no one will stomp in….

splish….. splosh….

the rain stops.

thick damp blankets

settle on the ground

covering the early

morning hours

with dew…

tick…tock….

the clock ticks on,

it is now after two.

faded memories

are all that is

left, save for a few

blurred images

quickly snapped

when no one was

looking straight into

the lense.

we stood next

to one another

not realizing that

those moments were it.

our final destination,

of sharing laughter

and believing in

that bond as

friend.

I look at our

faces,

the way our gaze

stretches out

over the choppy water

looking into a future

that isn’t there.

could we have known

it was all about

to end?

even now

it is difficult recalling

that we were

ever really friends.

no longer

a slave

or an earthly scavenger…

feasting on empty promises.

filling my soul,

in vain

with midnight’s

words of poetry

and whispered dreams.

No,

i am moving forward

toward

the rising dawn.

i am heading

towards the hills,

towards those

distant

mountains….

where the Lord

patiently awaits…

calling me home.