Glug...
glug...
glug...
glug.
Okay, that does it.
I hate cities.
I roll over
on my stomach
and pull the pillow
over my head.
Great,
I can still
hear it.
As if it
wasn't bad enough
that I walked
all over this
blasted city
for two hours
looking for a hostel,
now I'm stuck
in this dump
since every other place
is full.
This is
the modern equivalent
of the manger.
The lumpy bed
squeaks loudly
as I roll over onto
my right side.
The drain pipes
in this place
were obviously
put together without
a ventilation.
Now I get to
toss and turn
to the unsettling melody
of air bubbles coming up
through the pipe
as the sink drains.
Being three stories high
only prolongs the sound.
Man, I knew
I should have just
invited myself along
with that group
of backpackers I met.
They probably found
the hostel.
Oh well.
I roll over
onto my left side
and catch the glint
of streetlight reflecting
from my crucifix,
which hangs
from the lamp
by the window.
Sigh.
Sorry Lord.
I know I shouldn't complain.
I offer up
these inconveniences.
Please unite them
with your sufferings
and make them
a worthy offering
to the Father
for the sake of the world.
At least the shower
had hot water.
Okay, what else
can I think about?
Audrey.
I wonder if
I should go back
to Charlestown?
I miss the place
already.
It was nice
having someone
to talk to.
I wonder if
she's thinking of me?
Who am I kidding?
Why, Lord, why?
Sometimes I wish
I had been born
mentally handicapped.
How simple their lives
must be.
How uncomplicated
life must be
when you aren't
constantly tormented
by thoughts of all
the possible outcomes
for every given situation.
Having the mind
of a thinker
is a two-edged sword.
Lord, help me
to sort these thoughts out.
Protect me
from the flesh,
the world,
and the devil.
Guide my thoughts
and my heart.
Why do I continue
to think of Audrey?
Are these thoughts
from You
or from my own weakness?
Or could it be both?
Are you allowing me
to have these thoughts
so that you can use them
to show me more
of who I am?
That is why
I'm here,
after all, isn't it?
I'm beginning
to realize
that You want me
to know
who I am
so that I can see
what needs to change
before I can fully become
who You want me to be.
Sigh.
It hurts, You know.
I'm not sure I'm liking
what I'm finding.
I guess that's the point,
though, isn't it?
Okay.
I surrender.
Lay my soul bare.
Reveal me to myself.
Just give me the grace
to bear it
and, please,
can't it wait 'til later?
I'm tired.
Now that my eyes
have adjusted
to the light,
I can see more
of the details
on the crucifix.
I stare at the image
of Christ.
My heart stirs
with love
as I wait
for what dreams may come.