Redemption

ticktock

sounds like the End

or Redemption,

maybe they are the same thing

ticktock

I am the mouse running . . . nowhere

marking the calendar, scheduling bloodwork, MRIs, lumbar punctures, chemo,

crossing off these days

longing for The Day.

 

I have my Son here whom I cherish,

Together, we make a doctrine of our present, amputated life

with music and new friends.

We make happy in the moment

but sorrow nudges our periphery,

stretching to a hazy horizon,

a destination where I hope to find

the Father, another Son, a red-haired Daughter, a brown-eyed Daughter.

 

So far away

yet close

sorrow and hope entwined.

You are my bones, breath and blood.  I spill You from my pen

onto my little notebook

while I sit in waiting rooms.

I talk to You in the shower, driving to the store, taking out trash.

All my Words, spoken and written to You, for You, about You.

Perhaps I try to speak You into being

here with me.

 

Your Absence is as real to me

as the person standing beside me in this borrowed kitchen

while I stir the cabbage.

 

Perhaps I hear Your Absence louder

than Your Presence  —

I hope not.

I hope my ears hear

and my eyes see You

clear and subtle

when You share Your heart,

tell me Your story,

show me Your beetle,

play Your song.

 

ticktock

Did you know Time is elastic?

It stretched long these last months,

each moment anorexic without

You

and You

and You

and You.

I want to snap Time back to

our Together in a wooded Eden on the hill.

ticktock

Instead, I wait

ticktock

I wait for our Restored Home on the horizon

while I use my heart, hands and words to redeem now.