In What Shadow Night

In what shadow night did you fall, there between the cupboard and the stove, to a place no one will ever reach? We all have them, Jennifer said so, shadow selves, secret places, our insides out when the light moves quickly behind a cloud. But yours is long, too long. It’s wide and deep and I’m sick and sore from trying to catch you. Give me a hand, won’t you? Can you give me a sign, a flicker, a scratch, something? Anything? Because I’ll stop. I will. I’ll stop reaching. I’ll have to. No one keeps caring about another forever. Not really. I mean I don’t want you to keep it all to yourself, but come on. We all have limits. We’re all human. Just sick, dirty, old sad humans looking for some shade to stand in for a minute, just a brief second, one of those seconds that’s like God’s time, endless, too much sense, timeless, timeless, timeless. Something that stands still. Something that moves, too, that never stops moving either. Something pure something real something deep something that is everything something we all long for something none of us can ever understand. We scream for that shade that peace that union but all the weddings and babies in the world won’t guarantee it. It’s got to come from something completely interior, completely too powerful to describe, to architect, to articulate, or picture, or express in any way at all. From or to or by no one but God. And us. Just the two of us. {image via}


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