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
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,
He never said I’d like it.
Can't say I do.
In case you were wondering, he says it means toilet.