Thursday, September 22, 2011


In this wilderness of unhappiness
and lack of suffering,
I find myself making koala noises
and eating leaves to make a child laugh.   
I find my pages open to a dozen
half-done applications,
too ashamed to fill them to the full.
I find myself climbing into bed 
at eight, nothing left to do and staying
up until eleven doing things like this.
Today, I watched a child rolling, screaming, 
crying in the grass, ruining his pants,
because I would not let him say donnaker one more time,
and he did, five more times,
but it’s such a fun word, he said between sobs,
I couldn’t help it.
I gave him freedom to flail in his misery
until his mother came home.
As I backed out, I made koala noises at him
through the window of my car 
and he made them back 
in a bizarre reconciliatory language.
This evening I skipped bible study
and allowed myself to be unhappy.

Last night at bible study I confessed that
I have been prone to wallow.
The silence of God
lets me have my tantrum.
This poem is my bizarre reconciliatory language.
And in the very complaint,
a response.  
He never said I’d like it.  
Can't say I do.

In case you were wondering, he says it means toilet.  

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