Like Leaden Headbands

Like Leaden Headbands

(“And her Son was taken up to God and to his seat.” Revelation 12:5b)

When the pain imprisons like leaden headbands,
when the darkness terminates the journey just begun,
the rainbows flee,
the sun hides like a child in trouble,
and the thoughts in your mind have nowhere
to escape.

Rains may clear it,
winds steer the day to a neighbor’s flower bed.
Or your body, empty as the tin man,
listens to the echoes of the jail keeper alone
on your bed.

Friends do what they can do and send
a sentence or two. But from their mouth to
my mind
the context is scrambled and I can never decide
when the seasons may steal the inchoate words away.
Steal away to Jesus.

I have no doubt Christ is alive. I have no doubt about the
Spirit who imbues my lockdown soul. And why
I
should exist with the thumb screws tightened around my brain
escapes my reasoning.
I have no answers,
though some tell me I do. More to the point,
some tell me they have the answer. I only wish their answer
included donuts and coffee,
or soup and wine,
or a rollicking good time playing folk songs again.

I am glad for prayer. I am thankful. But you cannot lay
hands on
someone from behind a computer.

I know one day the locks will be opened,
and I shall wait as I have. On second thought,
could you please,
send someone,
to open,
them,
now.