Joy Unaware

Joy Unaware

(“Because they were wondering and questioning in the midst of their happiness, he said to them, ‘Do you have anything to eat?’” Luke 24:41)

We couldn’t believe our eyes though we looked
closer than the center of the target. We thought we were
seeing ghosts. We cried with tears in our eyes,
we cried with joy overwhelmed by surprise.
We thought we were looking into the sun,
we thought our eyes were blinded by the sight
of the center of the universe. We were castoff to the
edges of the earth. We were on the precipice between
laughter and accidents. Descending the stairs of sorrow
we were astonished at the brightness of the way. We
finished the interview and waited for the doors to open
when we saw the face that was as alive as a window full
of reflections. And that is all we thought we saw. But
we knew by the countenance that shined through, we
had walked with him through the waters and the blue
solitary skies. He had stilled the storms we thought nearly
swallowed us whole. We had watched him die.
Did I mention that joy overtook our sight? Did it
occur to us that things we never dreamed of might
swoop in and catch us unaware? We would share our
meal with him, we would watch him join us and,
corporeally speaking, our joy would slowly transform
into trust.

The Cassock-Robed Crow

The Cassock-Robed Crow

(“God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him.” Psalm 46:1 [The Message])

The cassock-robed crow presided from the fencepost
surveying the field as I drew near. I inched closer and
it barely noticed my feet on the asphalt periphery.
Could I get the shot? Would it stay still for a photo,
a close up, one I would not have to digitally zoom?
10 feet, then 8, then 6 and 5,
I stopped and aimed my camera. Before I could
blink, he was away. The sky was a better refuge
than an exposed piece of wood.

Do you remember days of comfort? Do you imagine
sanity in the sun with
no one
to interrupt your mediations after an overrun of hours?
You never heard the footsteps, did you, never sensed
the sightseer who would try to steal your soul.
You thought there was safety out in the open. You
dreamed this place was better than
all previous somewheres. You were caught unaware.
And your heart wanted to fly like the crow to a
flock
unreachable in the sky.

We would rather stand in the open with the sun on our face.
We would rather smile at the sound of whistling behind us.
We would rather slow the pace, erase the distress that makes
our pulse race when the song we forgot keeps circling our head.

Hide for a second, peek your head inside my window. I’ll
put away my
camera.
I’ll turn off the music. I’ll ask you your favorite wine.
I’ll ask you to tell me the time when you wanted to run
(like I’ve wanted to run).
I’ll empty the moment of everything except
the aroma of old books that makes you think of home.