It Is Lonely, You Know

 

It Is Lonely, You Know

(“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in. I will eat with that person, and they will eat with me. Revelation 3:20)

It is lonely, you know,
taking breakfast by yourself.
It is solitude for an hour, the sun upon the back porch,
but then the quiet invades and screams there must be more
than waiting.
(I’ve left the front door unlocked for ages.)

I would go into town, meet the gang for lunch,
but my cat has run away, and most of my friends
live state-lines beyond my reach. My feet ache
from starting my walk south and turning around.

I’ve heard the songs you sing, hands sometimes raised in the air;
I’ve seen the prayers you pray, sometimes kneeling on the ground.
Where does all that seeking leave you?
Which direction does your face turn,
what concerns you most after your encounter with
holy moments better than the building around the corner?

It remains lonely, you know,
after lunch by myself.
The sky is sun, the air is roses, the grass is fully awakened.
My eyes are rain, my breath half a prayer, my mind slowly mourning
the silence that makes all my thoughts shout even louder
that happiness is still far beyond my reach.

I’ve sat at tables before full of bread and bounty;
I’ve heard the thrum surround the forks and knives
while stereo conversations fill the kitchen counters with
more than just casseroles. Laughter is the echo that remains

After everyone has gone home.