Waiting for Me


The fever broke midweek, but not the vision
in the front of my mind of a place I’ve never
been. It is in the part of my mind where the

seen and the unseen meet. It always starts
in the same spot down by the bayou. The
water seems still in the summer heat. You

might throw in a stick to see if the water is
really moving at all. There is a flat bottom
boat tied to the dock silently waiting.

Waiting for me? Maybe. But I can sense
that life on the bayou is waiting for the next
rain. As is the big oak on the bank. Its moss

sways from a gust out of nowhere. Rain is
coming again. If I look up the hill, the muddy
bank turns to patches of grass here and

there. I can see two oars and a long pole
hanging on the downhill side of the small
tool shed that sits 
in the shade of a big

oak that covers the back right corner of a
house. A sweet 
porch runs the length of the
back of the house. There are two doors.

One on either side of long bay windows.
I’m guessing the left one goes to the
kitchen; the other to the master bedroom.

A few tables and chairs dot the deck. And
there is a big rocker like you see outside
Cracker Barrel on the other side of town.

For a moment, I thought I saw the hanging
bench move that sits at the left corner of
the house. I can hear a car pass in front

of the house. I can tell that there is a church
down and across the street from the house
because I can see the top of the white steeple

from down here. My eyes return to the swing.
Her skin is dark ebony; smooth and soft,
younger than her years. A few streaks of

white in her beautiful thick hair. And it seems
that she, too, sits waiting filled with God’s
grace and peace.

Waiting for me? Maybe. But I can sense
that life on the bayou is waiting for the next
rain.

Beyond Emoticons


Although my life is not a Hollywood movie,
I feel like the movie in my head, my life as
I know it, is in an edit cycle moving slowly
frame by frame from reel to reel.

And I can’t stop it. But why has the earth has
stopped moving?

Every star in the midnight sky, the sunrise,
the clouds in the afternoon, and the heat of
the day watch this cataclysmic event
designed by thoughts higher than mine.

“These are the times that try men’s souls”
was child’s play compared to this. For this is
the time that mends men’s souls.

A personal invitation has been engraved on
the tablets of my heart. It is destiny. Not
merely a new release of the old film playing
over and over again in my head.

How do I express joy? I don’t know how to
do that. And yet, my feelings and fears go far
beyond emoticons.

In fact, God’s love for me is so great that
it is He who has made time stand still. How
do I know? Simple. The movie has stopped.

Fresh winds blow. Water runs in the sand
beneath my feet. I can’t move. I can’t see
back or forward. The editor’s lamp is on.

The next frame is revealed. I see me, in the
viewing room and on the cutting table at the
same time.