• [CHRISTIA] new poetry, "Not Quite an Hour"

    From Mark@1:396/4 to Practical Christian Life on Sun Jun 14 12:57:45 2020
    From: lamppoet@CENTURYTEL.NET (Mark)

    A friend, some memories, a hope.

    "Not Quite an Hour"

    ("When the time for the dinner came, he dispatched his servant to say to
    those invited, 'Come, everything is now ready.'" Luke 16:17)

    I had hoped to find you there, maybe in a corner, sitting with no one,
    and catching up on every done, every right and wrong. We would
    laugh at our serious adolescence, condole upon our misshapen dreams,
    wonder at wisdom that left our coffee bitter,
    some friendships, and some others, that started to the letter and
    ended not answering the phone.

    You would tell me of your husband's passing, the one love you found
    that took all of you, the full of you, and befriended the broken heart
    you had finally come to understand. But he was older, 15 years or more;
    but he was stronger than the teenage crushes, more settled than
    the bad boys who usher in adulthood like a customized playground.

    It would be not quite an hour of soft words, and the first tear forms.
    The water rest, a captured bubble, filling in your lower eyelid, and
    like me, like you, like many others, you do not blink, for as soon
    as you do,
    it will break the surface tension with the heavy tear dropping from
    the icicle warming and settling like a mountaineer upon the crest of
    your cheek; the frame of a face that denies forgetting.

    I would mention my loves, remember time in 80 or 81 we
    heard Terry Talbot sing his ballads to Jesus. You never flushed
    nor squirmed and even joined our hands as pray floated from
    the gymnasium floor to the ear of the Father. And, perhaps
    a God who calls himself Father was the chief hurdle for your faith.

    All I know, you were always gracious when at 19 I opened a
    can of "Four Spiritual Laws" and spoon-fed it to you without any
    thought of even heating it up.

    But here we are, and I hope, when the dinner bell is rung, we might
    meet you again, we might laugh as silly old friends, mention our
    upcoming hip replacements and European vacations; and, with

    30 years since placing eyes on each other, 20 years since hearing
    as voice,
    we might be content to skim the surface, yet comfortable to
    open the curtain of our backstage lives, with nothing to lose
    and so little time.

    Meet me at the banquet, sit beside me at the table,
    I expect to have a day full of errands,
    but would rather break bread with a friend.


    mark p.


    Mark's Blog

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