Everyone I talk with is hanging onto the idea that spring is around the corner. Hope is a powerful tonic. The mood has shifted.
But in these last ten days of winter I feel that I have something left to do. I still have some emptying to do.
There are regrets still haunting me. They cling to me like horror sci-fi slime. I don’t notice the goo until someone tells a story and it triggers a hindsight-insight. Things I haven’t done, didn’t do, opportunities missed. If only I’d been a better father, minister, man…
I need to pack those up and send them off to someone who needs the extra guilt. Isn’t there a drop box in some mall parking lot where you can drop your used guilt for those in need?
Winter’s wild wonder
tells me
without words
to listen
GOD’s voice
is not in the calling
from that high place of duty
GOD’s voice
is not in the worrying
about what they might say
GOD’s voice
isn’t saying anything
but quietly waiting for me
to get it
to open that door
to walk out into the cold
to step into the place without answers
How can this place without walls
feel so much like home?
How can this place so empty
feel so full?
How can this place without words
speak so clearly into me?
It tells me
what I already know
It tells me
a harsh truth about what is gone and dead
What I don’t want to know
Where I don’t want to go
because the duty that defined me
the people that held me
grip only the false gods I wore
and not the ghost I am
Stepping out that door
I shed the skin
that was afraid to feel
the cold shoulder
And discover that without skin
I am just smoke in the wind
inhaled deep
in the Maker’s lungs
stirring HER imaginations of me
And once I’ve entered HER blood’s stream
touched HER neural receptors beyond Saturn’s rings
helped HER let go of the future we’d made
SHE’ll get the joke
and blow me out
I can’t hold a candle
all my plans and schemes
to the purpose SHE lifts on horizons new day
March 9, 2011
Sunrise over Pidgeon Lake
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