Neighbor

Neighbor

   You've gone AWOL and only
   Jesus can bring you back, not this
   poem that I began with the lie
   that we can overhear your laughter,
   not hubris or tears and rain.
   You are an ocean who's left
   the nest of earth I thought you'd promised
   not to. The sky who folded up
   your blue tent and took off.

   What remained, they packed off
   to flame. Before the day we sat
   to make your legend in the church,
   I could almost feel your curious, daredevil
   spirit peel itself from the wall
   of death like a cartoon character
   and bop out to explore. So tell me
   what you learned. Is it possible
   to breathe astral, heavenly air?

   And tell me. Was it worth it?--
   all that sturm und drang you pitched
   against our brother Death whom rather
   work in secret--swelling, hemorrhage,
   collision of blood cells, collusion
   over charts, snarled traffic of the body,
   roads under construction, accident,
   the rampage of doctors to prevent
   the clever kleptomaniac from winning
   as long as possible. He could only
   steal your body. Which I miss, it's true,
   oh god, true. The screen door you
   banged every afternoon, now silent.

Jeanne Murray Walker

COPYRIGHT 2006 The Christian Century Foundation
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning