I Miss the Small Spaces

I Miss the Small Spaces

(“For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of Yahweh’s glory, as the waters cover the sea.” Habakkuk 2:14)

Hovering above the terrain of a thousand different
portraits
I wonder what the next face will bring.
Would you believe I was a dark horse?
Would you believe I’ve survived more undercover
obstacles, I’ve beat the odds too many times.
Now my inhibitions are stronger; I only dance on
command. I’ve slipped through the grasp of more
midnights than I can count. I’ve lasted
well past my expiration date.

That is not to say the world is more sluggish,
or the air full of flood and mud. It merely means
I miss the small spaces between us. I long for
something longer than hello and goodbye, something
stronger than a quick snack from the kitchen.

You don’t receive red ribbons for barely escaping
with your skin unburned. No one celebrates the days
you spend five minutes singing before the rain. But sometimes
the fog can hold you as near the ground of your being
as a day without uncarpeted skies. They all serve to convince me
my debts are paid manifold.

When the table was set there were more places than there
were
chairs. Never mind. Sitting on the floor is easier on the
back-log
of unfinished conversations. There are too many stops
in our talks
and not enough commas. Incomplete as we are,
we could find a place where words land like summer rain
instead of arrows.