Did God Block Us?
A Note in the Margin
I keep expecting a knock at the door.
Not an actual knock.
More the feeling of one.
As though life has forgotten
to tell me something important.
Maybe I'm waiting for a memo
from the big guy.
If god speaks he probably would
say something about nothing.
Not instructions.
Not a five-year plan.
Not a list of mistakes.
Just a note in the margin
explaining what all this is.
He would tell us this is much ado about nothing,
yet we are all part of something
that opens into everything.
Are we knocking on heaven's door
or is heaven knocking at ours?
Why don't I know your name?
Why do we sit like strangers?
No sound is coming from the distance,
did god block us?
We all know what emptiness is;
we know it is in us, it may be us.
But it is not all that we are.
Inside us there is a song
even if we can't hear it yet.
We are all standing at the same bus stop,
waiting for a message
that may already be here.
Photo by Charles Etoroma on Unsplash
Borrowed Language
I keep misplacing myself
in ordinary places.
I stand in the hallway,
whispering sweet nothings
to myself,
wondering what I'm saying.
I lose myself in spaces.
The grocery store.
Traffic lights.
Halfway through a sentence.
I hear my own voice
from across the room
and don't recognize it.
Who taught me
to become a stranger
to my own life?
I have been introducing myself
for years
using borrowed language.
The efficient version.
The polite version.
The version that says,
"I'm fine."
Meanwhile,
someone inside me
has been clearing their throat,
waiting patiently
for their turn to speak.
Photo by Resat Kuleli on Unsplash
Part of What I Am Is Your Name
We are anonymous.
Are we even people?
I hardly have a name
I can pronounce.
I mostly have a soul
I can't reach.
In the crowd we stand,
each a stranger to the other,
each a sister,
each a brother.
We all have questions
about ourselves,
about each other.
Are we strangers
or are we friends?
Will we die for each other?
Or will we each have
a private story?
Who are you to me?
What am I
to all of you?
We stand in places,
together and apart.
We live our own lives
without looking at each other.
But part of who we are
is the other.
Part of what I am
is your name.
Where are you
in this room?
Where am I
in this life?
Who are we
in this life?
nina
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