A Loop Through the Cemetery

A Loop Through the Cemetery

(“Whoever would follow me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me.” Mark 8:34b)

I nearly stayed in bed all day with
pain and darkness
binding me and
reminding me
there was no one to talk to until
late afternoon.

I am sorry for my moods. I am sorry I am lost.

So, I walked past an empty lot
with lots of empty spots for forthcoming homes.
Stay tuned for developments.

I am tracing circles and arriving nowhere.

So, I looped through the cemetery,
read the names of a dozen friends and
one name glued to a niche where
my best friend’s ashes are shared with
another. I think he would rather have been
alone.

I am tracking far too slowly. My hips ache.
Dollops of snow anchor the hills to the
river below and crystals above.

Four white-tail deer found their lunch
just outside the cemetery fence. I knew they
would leave once they saw me,
but I approached anyway. They turned their
backs on me
and disappeared into the woods.

So, I followed the road to the top
of the hill
where the douglas firs shade the slush
on the shoulders. I hoped to see a face,
but turned around to start back home.

I nearly stayed in bed all day;
did I mention that? The pain never left,
the darkness turned to sludgy silence,

I sat down and wrote these words and
could not bring myself to understand
what good my dying would do.

I do not mind the solitude, but I was not made for
loneliness.

Inside the Loop

 

Inside the Loop

(“The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; and they have gone down into the person’s innermost being.” Proverbs 18:8)

They told me my soul was impounded;
I heard the news from reliable sources
and paid the fines plus taxes plus surcharges
plus a fraction more to unlock the door
the story-teller broke with his insistence
that no other tale could be truer
than the tale he wove.

It loomed from parking lots to garages.

The room I had saved for glorious days
was suddenly crammed with hoarded bits
I had heard
from officers-in-charge,
authors of books
and
radio hosts who swore
their knowledge was inside the loop
(the loop I longed to encircle me too.)

Those stories bloated me, leaking out the pores
of my skin
until I thought I believed in every secret scheme
that only the faithful and redeemed knew
out of tune,
out of mind.

What have you cooked up for me this time?
Shall we blame the demons, the seasons,
the curses--or worse--the fatality I was born into?

But now that sunset is approaching
I’m unwinding Once Upon a Time
from
Happily Ever After
and telling the fable that is in front of me,
and filling the table with discoveries
I have made on my own.

I’ll trust the last line, the afterword,
the seldom heard and sublime word
to the Author of starlight and verbs.