Tears and Claims

Tears and Claims

(“Tell Hezekiah that the Great King, the king of Assyria, says this: ‘What kind of backing do you think you have against me?’” Isaiah 36:4b [The Message])

On one side of the road they pass me by in cap and gown,
dissertations glowing on well-laid classic or wove;
on the other side they barely notice me,
stuck in the corner of the switchback as I am.

No one taunts me anymore, (except my own thoughts,
oh that they would stop and let me breathe),
no one taunts me anymore, nor ignores. I am
simply the driftwood that landed on the side of the road
days after the flood receded to go back home.

I crutch in the solitude of my own making,
though I did not choose this isolation;
and limp alone (I walk upright and straight in the
presence of life’s companions)
uncertain the destination.

I heard a 90 year old dying, oh so slowly,
ask for her mother so breathlessly
you might believe she mother was just in the kitchen
bringing cookies and afternoon tea.

I am not alone in my loneliness,
travelers left and right watch the daily traffic,
the world passing us by on both sides of the road.

How can the wife of a husband like me
understand my tears and claims of ennui?
Is she not enough, she must think, and more so
she is; enough and more.

And Lord, oh Lord, how can the path wind in sorrow
with the Joy of the Universe my Companion? How, then,
my faith, my heart, my goals burnt like a mildewed map,
will I find the laughter along the journey again?