Distance

The expanse is self-inflicted
a self-exiled expatriate;
I am here, not there

answered a calling, have since done my
best at least pretty well considering
restraints with which I had to work

sometimes I feel
my work here done
my time here over
needed elsewhere,
so I try to believe

but the work here is far from finished
though I would prefer it be for me

there are times I think someone else
needs to take their turn at this thing
as I have been here, done that

God has yet to agree.

Life off the playground is not about
taking turns everybody does not get into
the game (their choice) so I keep working
at all of it, trying hard, doing what I can,
attempting to practice the patience I
once employed abundantly in tougher
times and situations

Awaiting God’s answers
to questions I am not sure
I know how to even ask
is my symbol to bear

In seeking clarity to a calling maybe I
need to be more specific in expressing
my tepidly unique, evolving, reservations

Mark Lucker

Trinity

I

“This,” he said, bemused, “is my calling?”
“Well,” replied God, evenly,
“at least I didn’t call you collect.”

II

“Ah, yes!” he said confidently, “This is
my calling in life!” “Unusual,” puzzled
God, “as your line was always busy.”

III

“This” he proclaimed with cautious certainty,
“is my true calling.” God nodded affirmingly,
“Well, for now, it’s a good start.”

Ahhh…huh?

The moment my life succumbs

to logic

I will consider it an out-of-body
near-death, come-to-the-light

experience

Sort of a reincarnation of myself
at least, as seen by others

Targeted

I was once a
New Year’s resolution

a young woman
I worked with at a
large hotel

greeted me passionately,
spontaneously, in the
grand lobby

flinging her arms
unannounced
around my neck,
first kiss of a new year

January first.

Our first kiss, and last
wouldn’t have been either

had that new year come
the previous October.