The Easy Speed

The Easy Speed

(May “the angel who has redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads.” Genesis 48:16a)

Sitting behind me sometimes,
watching my tears off track sometimes,
speaking the time and the day and the place and the way
in divine intersection; all coordinates meeting at the same spot,
sometimes.

Without berating my sometime fright,
“fear not”, the first words, first light, late night,
so whether my shiver began at their appearance or
was a chronic response to the disappearance of one more
cornerstone,

The strong words were safety and so large their echo
invited the grand canyon depth to meet K2 heights,
all at the easy speed that sends every heavenly declaration,
constellation and alpine, perfectly to its purpose.

No doddle, no off ramps for souvenir bracelets,
no quick milkshakes at the famous café,
no half-day excursion to climb a darkened mound
of volcanic debris.

Angelic messengers, for all I know, laugh the best
at their messages’ delivery.

So, sometimes, after sitting behind me,
and sometimes, after speaking time and tears,
I have envisioned the leaving, side by side,
a holy pair, nodding at a job well done,
and sometimes, joking about humor
I dare not hope to understand.

Though envisioned, instead, I’ve have looked,
I have sped to the spot they spoke, surrounded
by floors and ceilings and walls; not windows or doors,
and have found only the air barely ruffled where once they
spoke to me.

And, for a sky-time second, I think I may, almost;
I think I see, nearly, I think I am, mostly; in on the joke.