We were falling
Past space and other places
The worn-out identities of
everywhere we’d been
Burnt out on bars and bathrooms
Faulty lighting, hallways of never-end.
We got to spend our youth
Racing through the motions
As if things would stop, pause
or slow us
Sometimes the realization of being alive
Hit like clocks clapping together
But we never saw how time and weather
made any difference at all
Life was like a movie,
We lived like we were dying
Until we saw you, dead.
Caskets change everything.
And death really messes with your head.
On this particular day, I was late to church for prayer or maybe I was early. I walked in and sat in a chair that faced the wall opposite from the one I entered. I noted the familiar faces. There were probably 5-10 other people already deep in prayer and meditation. I faced the wall, put my feet on top of the floor heater and slouched into a ball. I began talking to God about my day, trying really hard to emulate the way I would talk to a friend. I hadn’t really done this before. My prayers are, for the most part, very structured, reverent and formal. I had finally summed up my day and really wanted to tell God how nature had affected me that day. I wanted Him to know my gratitude, to express an awe for the majesty of creation in a manner that expressed familiarity and comfort versus separation and reverence. I kind of just started shaking my head slowly back and forth, ignorant to what was about to come out… and I spoke:
“I really love what You’ve done with the place.”
I couldn’t control the giggling until I noticed my madness affecting all the other silent conversations with God.
This, I feel, marked a very special transition in how I began to identify with the creator of the universe.
Posted in Prose
Tagged art, life, love, writing