Listening

"None of us hears God perfectly."
~ Alan Wright

I’m listening,
But did I hear You correctly?

Quietly I sit
Alone on the front pew
Waiting
For the word of instruction
That I am to obey.
Or I lay
Eyes open in the darkness
Of my room
Listening
To hear Your voice calling me.

Tell me my next step.
(This way . . .)
Give me my orders.
(Do this . . .)
How do I obey?
(Watch Me . . .)
I hear,
And I obey.
My willing heart will follow
Orders,
Instruction,
Direction.

But there comes a time
When I wonder
If I heard You correctly.
I know
None of us hears God perfectly,
But was I even close?

In my zeal
To do the right thing,
Any right thing,
Did I rush headlong into a plan
Born in my own mind
Rather than
Whispered into my heart?

Help me
To know when I have heard
Your voice.
When I obey,
Follow,
Execute a plan,
Help me
To know that I have heard
And understood
So I won’t hesitate
To move at the sound of Your voice.

A Few Notes

A few notes from Bocelli
Is all it takes
To send me back there
To that corner booth.
Making small talk
Around the big subject
Of you,
Your fears,
Your courage.
Self-conscious giggles
Over nine-dollar sandwiches
I pick celery out of my chicken salad
While you sip tea.
We make a plan,
Then everything feels easy,
Right.
Arms linked
We step outside
And stand in the wet twilight.
Hope glimmers in your eyes
For the first time in months.
Music floats over us from inside –
“Per amore,
hai mai speso tutto quanto?”
I have.

You said you owed me the world,
But I knew
You were already beginning to forget.
But don’t worry.
For me,
A few notes is all it takes
To remember where you were
And see how far you’ve come.

Dear Jimmy

“Dear Jimmy,” it had begun.
That was all he read
Before it was snatched from his light hold.
The sweet, girlish words
Meant for his eyes
Were passed from hand to hand
Through the classroom.
The boy, in hopes of stealing the letter back,
Jumped, ran,
Dove, lunged,
And reached where he could –
All without result,
Except that of increased grins and giggles
And mocking looks.
Finally,
He stood in the center of a circle of faces.
They watched,
And waited to see what he would do.
He waited,
And watched them as they stared.
He begged within himself
That the red-haired girl who now held the letter
Would have mercy on him.
Her freckled smirk made him wonder
If she would.
Perhaps it was the tragic look on his face,
Or the hint of tears in his defiant eyes,
Or the crimson on his hot cheeks,
Or the nervous shuffling of his feet –
Or perhaps it was that she had penned the letter –
That erased her teasing smile.
She looked shy.
He seemed anxious.
She paused.
He held his breath.
She stepped forward.
He did the same.
She held the letter toward him.
He leaped forward, hesitated, and hastily
Clasped the letter that had been
Held for ransom
At the cost of embarrassment.
Then he ran from the room filled with snickers.