Memories are acute and active,
taking over thoughts for slow seconds,
minutes, whole hours of the day.
In no time at all I am back in those spaces,
and I waste my time,
with this imagining thing…
I am in the doorway,
shouting the news,
holding the paper that says,
I am worthy.
“I knew that all along,” you say.
I beam, and turn, to run along the shore,
to unfurl sails across a sea,
and stalk deep into the woods.
And you are with me, each moment,
pushing on the small of my back with your palm,
driving me forward.
With someone like you shacked up in my mind,
I am never afraid.
In time, I feel myself release and open,
allowing your praise to engulf me,
your words to give me meaning.
I should have found meaning in myself.
Because you are intangible.
in every way but memory,
in truth, I do not know you.
I only know, and grasp for,
And now, with each recollection,
and each pondering question,
and each fruitless hope, of reconciliation,
I push myself further and further into the ground.
Into the dark places
where the bell rings anxiously,
hoping for a Savior,
when the light has already been shut out.