An Extra Can of Soup

 

An Extra Can of Soup

(“Now He who supplies seed to the sower and supplies bread for your food will also multiply your seed sown and increase the fruits of your righteousness.” 2 Corinthians 9:10)

Please don’t follow me home only to
turn around and leave me
there alone.
I have no money, but an extra can of
soup and an apple or two. Perhaps Spring
will allow us this modest repast
so I have someone to talk to.

I don’t want to be selfish,
I don’t need the attention,
I don’t want the focus on myself,
I don’t need to lengthen your stay
beyond darkening evening.

I need someone to walk up my gravel driveway,
someone I once prayed for,
or
someone I once stayed with
past the shock, past the incongruent murmurs
of friends with no words.
Someone I delayed with
until the tears were rivers,
until the rivers were dry,
until the sentences became only sighs.

I’ve had offers, I admit. And then the trauma insists
I’ll freeze in the sun
the moment anyone
enters my door. Something keeps the words
choking in my throat. I want someone
I can cry with.

Will you do me the kindness,
(and perhaps I can find a loaf of bread)
to wait with me on days when I am tired of
being brave,
when courage is too exhausting,
when I cannot answer with faith or certainty,
when I only want to nap for an eternity.

Will you do me the kindness,
and hand me a handkerchief, please.
I’ve been waiting for seeds to be planted,
for bread to be abundant,
and a place to lay my head.