Dog-Eared Invitations

Dog-Eared Invitations

(“The Lord remembers us and will bless us.” Psalm 115:12a)

Look inside the rain, let it remind you of faces
that you used to see, faces you know were good
for a kiss or a laugh and usually both.
I know you would prefer that the
thread reached back 50 years unbroken.
Instead the spool unraveled five or ten years
at a time.

You can take to the road to find them,
you can send a letter describing how they
showed up in your dreams.
You can call and hope their voice sounds the same,
you can count up the words lost over the
stretches of highway from desert to home.

The road narrows but rarely answers the
questions we’ve never asked. I’d travel the
world with you,
I’d scrape the sand off your face. I’d help
you find the faces you left behind,
I’d deliver invitations to everyone who has
forgotten your name.

Do you feel unseen? Do you tell yourself stories
of what might have been? Does the rain keep you
from going outside; does it mock your hope for
freedom’s ring?

Listen beyond the trail that has led you here.
Let the wind carry the voices from the past.
I know you ache for forgotten friends; I know you
would never forsake even the one who cannot
remember your name.

Let’s start the journey by faith;
let’s empty our baskets and create a
new recipe for road trips. A day, a week,
a reverie, a sleep, a month, a cross-country
race to the end where we cash in our
dog-eared invitations to dance around
the bonfires again.