I just want to thank you.
I’ve never smelled the color nine,
like Chris said, finding you is
like trying to.
I know you’re here
you’re real
you’re near.
No grey-headed crank
or long-robed saint
nor motherly intent
could reach to the place
of turmoil inside
and calm the waves
that want to freeze
my chest
and drown me in distress.
Only you can do that.
My stormy soul obeys you.
All the others try
and cast a spell of
getting by.
You are the one with the words of life.
You are the one who heard me cry
at the table in my neighbor’s house
head bent
heavy with tears
pouring out complaints, cares and lament.
I just want to say thank you
for even caring.
Thank you for waiting for
millenia to make my heart
glad to tarry.
I wish you’d come, but then
I know if I were his soul,
or hers, let go
cut off
stopped
from your favor
by your apocalypse,
I’d pray you’d wait
even longer,
no haste.
I still look hard at the night sky
and wish i could see
the one giving me peace
and helping me believe.
I wish you’d come.
Sheila Dougal 