Afternoons Slip By

Afternoons Slip By

(“Lord, make me aware of my end and the number of my days so that I will know how short-lived I am.” Psalm 39:4)

I looked behind me to see how crooked
the line had become. I think I waited for
perfection
to creep up on me.
I may have let the days pass too innocently,
and the words I spoke so incoherently
as I tried to explain the reason I would not
walk in the rain.
I don’t regret a single conversation I had that
led to no conclusions at all. I would have more if
I could find someone to talk to.
We incubated words and hoped they would hatch
into new ideas about how to spend the day.

I might open my eyes underwater, I might
reach for the sky and capture a cloud. But I wish
I had called you more often, that I had made a list
of all the silly jokes we would tell over the years.
I might try the phone number I’ve known since childhood
but I’m convinced that number has grown extinct.

Afternoons alone slip by so slowly while
the years I remember zoom by like supersonic spies.
Time draws lines like fences broken by the rain.
I bring to mind underfunded misfortune and laugh
under my breath
at the thought of it all.

Will you meet me for a beer before it becomes so
late that I’ve forgotten your name?

My Secrets Slip Out

 

My Secrets Slip Out

(“You will see heaven open. You will see God's angels going up and down to the Son of Man.” John 1:51b)

I confess there is a vacancy,
a place where love should be found,
but I find no one there.
I’m not cut out for crowds anymore,
I have no more tricks up my sleeve.
but sometimes my secrets slip out
and I fear the few who have stayed will
finally leave.

I confess there is a jealousy,
a place that feels so empty
because I want to be what
everybody else really needs.
I’m just not cut out for rules anymore,
I have no more tears left to shed.
But sometimes I pour out my heart
and delete it because
I fear the few who have stayed will
finally leave.

I confess what I have confessed before,
a place that should sing your name
because I am just that broken
and weary of trying to change.
I’m really not cut out for much anymore,
I have no more advice to give,
but sometimes I fake a few lines
with the hope of hearing a voice
that tells me
why you would never leave.