Wednesday, December 02, 2009

It Could be a Bomb or a Bullet or a Sentence or a Savior.

sandy blue waves. by stoonja

We have needed this for so long. Thought of a thousand different ways it would happen. The weathermen spoke of floods and opened their umbrellas. The faithful mentioned crowns full of anger and amethists. fearful fortune tellers tried to plug the hole to heaven and the pagans just plugged their ears. We all thought you would be louder, you know.

The mere waiting or wild guesses might have stopped our hearts altogether. I think I see now there is some reason for all that waiting. something tangible and important. A savior or a set of gold clubs, isn’t the gift always that much better after we have wanted it, seemly forever. After we have anticipated. Guess at. dreaded. expected.hoped...

something is coming to us. so says the translation and our telescopes. Someone we have waited for since before we knew it. Someone who will sew us up.
wrapped in prayer shawls and the smell of cattle.
Ambilical cords instead of golden robes.
Go figure.

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