You'll Never Guess

You’ll Never Guess

(“They themselves did not go into the court house. They did not want to become unclean. They wanted to eat the Passover Feast.” John 18:28b)

You’ll never guess who sat next to me,
while the drama played out below.
You’ll never fathom what it meant to me,
for someone to enter my unclean home.

Never mind that my thoughts are tangled,
my hair has fallen
and my friends cannot hear the distress calls
I’ve sent secondly hoping for someone to
sit on the porch with me,
take up the torch for me
that I’ve already carried too long.

Some friends followed him,
some adversaries too,
but no one stood with him,
the place was infected and out of tune.

They resisted the gravity of the situation,
and slunk back to homes to prepare flat bread
and meat to celebrate their own liberation.
But no one stood with him,

the place was unholy in the short run.

I might have hurried too; who knew
the weekend was the starting gate for rejuvenation?
All I know is I wait on the porch
for someone else who knows pain and isolation
to offer warm skin, a one way ticket home,
a mortgage forgiven or a gift card redeemable for
darkening the pain,
brightening the stains of depression without
expiration.

You’ll never guess who sat next to me
and I hope somehow, they will return.