Darkness gathers
I used to panic not
feeling Your touch,
but now I know – You’re
only adjusting Your grip.
You have Your hand on
me!
That’s the rare kernel of
this odd, random life;
my comfort in this
dreamscape
of impairment,
bewilderment and fear.
I’ve gladly forked over
all my cash.
The truth will come out
in the end.
Someone will be by to collect
my ticket.
I’ll give them the one
You purchased.
Authorities will ask for
my papers.
We’ll find out who I
really am.
Darkness gathers as the
train hurtles
toward the outer provinces;
the cold sharpens;
tongues become stranger
and more raucous.
I panic when I get the
notion I’m a lone traveler.
I don’t know where I’m
going! But Your valise is by the
window.
Your scent lingers in the
narrow compartment.
You’ve just stepped out
for a bit of air.
O child of God, you want
freedom from pain.
Liberation requires the
dissolution of everything you hold dear.
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