I sit in the dimness
Surrounded by jack-o-lanterns and costumes
While the sounds and smells of Autumn revelry fill the air
And Cheshire smiles from made-up faces
Shine through at me.
I sit in the dimness
Enveloped in the black cloak
That I cut
From the cloth of loneliness,
And drink.
I sit in the dimness
Where people pass and greet me
Where men stop to talk
With question marks shining from eyes
That scan up and down like yo-yos.
I sit in the dimness
And wish
That my glass would sprout a label saying “drink me”
And upon drinking
I would shrink
And climb inside
Escaping to Wonderland with a splash.
But rather than being made by me
The tiny splashes, barely heard
Are from my tears falling down
One by one
As I sit in the dimness
And weep.
Suzanne DeWitt Hall's blog highlighting the idea of a theology of desire, featuring the writing of great minds along with her own humble efforts at exploring the hunger for God. (Note: Most of this blog was written under Suzanne's nom de couer "Eva Korban David".)
Wednesday, October 31, 1984
Wednesday, September 19, 1984
Followed
Little girl in Catholic-school plaid
Hurrying down the sidewalk with books clutched tightly
To an unformed breast
Your eyes peer out at the morning
From beneath a hanging shock of black curls
And small ears listen
To the sound of footsteps
Following steadily behind.
Frowning, you walk faster
Glancing back to see
The shadow of the man speed up also
Noting at the sane time that no friends wait
As they usually do
On the street
But the school looms ahead
And eyeing it
You sigh with relief.
Turning, you stop to give your follower a quick kiss
Before running inside;
Sometimes Daddy can be so embarrassing.
~1984
Hurrying down the sidewalk with books clutched tightly
To an unformed breast
Your eyes peer out at the morning
From beneath a hanging shock of black curls
And small ears listen
To the sound of footsteps
Following steadily behind.
Frowning, you walk faster
Glancing back to see
The shadow of the man speed up also
Noting at the sane time that no friends wait
As they usually do
On the street
But the school looms ahead
And eyeing it
You sigh with relief.
Turning, you stop to give your follower a quick kiss
Before running inside;
Sometimes Daddy can be so embarrassing.
~1984
Tuesday, February 7, 1984
I Open My Book
Waiting for a bus
To take me away
From the black and the gray
Of the city
I join the queue
Relaxing bit by bit
The lights have not been lit
Yet still I can see
And then I hear the sound;
A braking tire’s squeal
A startled voice’s peal
Before it is quiet again.
Rather than looking around
I pay no attention
The light pole is my stanchion
Upholding disbelief
And as my bus drives past
The truth becomes clear;
The body lying near
Loudly shouts out the facts
As the scene disappears
I slowly turn my head
And hoping she isn’t dead
I open my book.
~1984
To take me away
From the black and the gray
Of the city
I join the queue
Relaxing bit by bit
The lights have not been lit
Yet still I can see
And then I hear the sound;
A braking tire’s squeal
A startled voice’s peal
Before it is quiet again.
Rather than looking around
I pay no attention
The light pole is my stanchion
Upholding disbelief
And as my bus drives past
The truth becomes clear;
The body lying near
Loudly shouts out the facts
As the scene disappears
I slowly turn my head
And hoping she isn’t dead
I open my book.
~1984
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