THE OLD MAN AT THE END OF THE HALL


the old man is still waiting at the end of the hall, near the door
dark, disapproving eyes, veins pulsating


the huge frame shadows my doorway
passivity to rage instantaneously
bearing down on my childish frame
innocence collides with anger


i am colder, jagged and out of focus


now i am grown and the old man is weak
my mind still paralyzed with fear
larger than life, his angry criticism on everyone's face
wherever i go


i cannot forgive


the anger so real, so justified
my mind aches to think of it
i fall from prayer to restless sleep


yet beyond my unforgiveness,
Christ entered the room where the old man lay weeping
Convulsively shaking before him, God rocking and soothing him


my father was as frightened as i
that pitiful old man and i cried healing tears
softening the calluses, releasing the knot bound deep in my chest


now that old man is still waiting at the end of the hall
near the door
red, tear stained eyes, lonely, regretful, misunderstood


that old man is still waiting
kneeling at the end of the hall, near the door
waiting for my love, my acceptance
and my prayers