We Came Back

We waited,
Counting the measure of time on bated breath.
Holding it even though we knew better.
But still, waiting.
Looking for a sign.
Or maybe looking for hope.
Somewhere in the breadth between now and when
When she’d come knocking on our door
Smiling with that ever welcoming smile
That grin in welcome-sign white.
For her light to overwhelm our dark.
For her grace to shine down
And give us reason to believe in Jesus.

In tumbleweed crescendo she leave us
Stumbling through that desperate hard dark.
Our hearts
Shattered like so much fragile glass,
Or maybe like teeth on the pavement of disappointment
And we
Were ever disappointed.

We couldn’t keep up the waiting.
We knew we had to stand up and stumble out the door
Hoping to find God on our own.
I’ve always hoped to find God on my own.

Through a haze of cigar smoke and alcohol
Music and the breaking of the human spirit
We trudged on through the cold black night of our souls
Praying to find our tomorrow.

We never found Jesus.
We only found each other.
And it is so hard
For the blind to lead the blind.
For the night to give off light.

In the empty night skies
We hoped to find our guides.
I found mine.
An angry old sage on the mountain side
Trying to roll stones uphill.
He’s so much like me;
Stubborn and full of so much stupid.

But he,
He couldn’t see.
Couldn’t find his guide
In that infinite blanket of bleak sky.
Still waiting.

Author’s Note: I wrote and emailed this to a friend last night who had gone out ahead of us in Montenegro. She was meeting up with an old friend and asked for us to meet with her at a specific time. We waited for a little over an hour before finally just heading out on the town. We later found out that she had been swept up in the fun of her visit that she ended up out for longer than anticipated.

In a haze of too much fun, just enough alcohol, and the overwelming awe of this fine country, I couldn’t help but write her this poem as a teasing way to say, “Thanks for forgetting us.” In the end, everything worked out because everyone had a great time in beautiful Montenegro!

About St Basil Z Fish

Curator of the strange and incredibly awkward. A rambling writer with the misguided notion he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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