Watched The Sky Breaking on The Promise That We Made

laundromat, by eyecon

dear god.
It was the year of the early winter. We had pressed our feet against frozen crops. Sat upon hard surfaces listening to the priest praying loudly. trying to pull you down here. We were up to our elbows in tree roots and the torah. we had finished counting, on fingers and toes, the generations since you left. we thought the mountains would crack right in half. we expected golden thrones. glorious thunder. a royal war in which we had picked the winning side.

we were all waiting. And some of us not so patiently.
Maybe you were teaching us something. About silence. About faith. but we didn’t get it and it didn’t make waiting any easier.

And then, after we had all forgotten. After you had been forgotten among cynicism and semantics. you came. covered in horse shit and hay.

you must have known such an entrance would not go over well. we all laughed. Looked away said surely not. yeah right.

you came anyways.

This years winter is early again and Im not sure we are so much better. At getting it. At waiting for you. You know. We are huddled in bars and churches with our heads down and the television up. fearful of lonliness. Avoiding the silence and all that waiting. christmas songs in october. Incense and piety. We trying to pull you down here again. anxiously rapping our fingers against the clouds. We are shoving busyness into any foreseen space. Pushing fast forward. Speeding. I cant wait for my soup to cool much less for a savior.

I miss you and I don’t want to wait.

We are hopeless foot-tappers. Bags packed. Checking our laundry and burning our lips.

Even so. Come, Lord Jesus.

Ashley