The chaplain told me to picture myself
at the top of a mountain.
Picture myself on a scouting mission
taking notes on the required distance to travel,
and pencil in the margins of the map
all the shadows of self-doubt
for I would be assigned to also carry out the objectives.
He asked me to remember praying
for every step to bring me
from one cluster of wildflowers to the next.
Clump after clump of purple floral weeds line the path
like a hero's farewell parade.
But the cheers trickle away
while I scale up towards the stars
so far ahead
I cannot hear their whispers.
Their judgmental stares
are my closest companion
because up here,
I am alone.
A loan from the people below,
payment of self-sacrifice to the Gods.
For we've been informed that they don't want too many people
knocking on heaven's doors,
so my friends and family stay behind.
The chaplain told me to picture knocking on God's door,
like some fiercely independent Girl Scout,
banging her knuckles on the door,
"Look, God, look what I can do!"
He wanted me to picture being alone
so I'd want to keep you in my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment