The Wandering Lady Who Would Be A Saint

I see her around town,
The wandering lady.
She’s searching.

Yesterday she was in our neighborhood,
Walking tentatively up our driveways,
Toward our front doors.

Not here, the voice said.
She obediently turned away,
Still searching.

Over and over again,
The message:
Not here.

She was close once,
Finally in the right place,
She thought.

The police came and told her to leave.
She was back the next night.
So were the police.

“I’m looking for the Lord,” she told them.
“He came out of that purple cloud.
“He called me.”

“I’ve got to find him,
“Tell him I’m ready now.
“I’ve given everything away.

“I’ve given everything up.
“I’m nobody now,
“I’m ready now."

“O Lord, can’t you hear me?”

“Not here,” the voice said.
“Not now.”

~ Russ Allison Loar
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Early this morning,
Just a glimpse of golden light
On the peak of a nearby mountain,
Then it was gone,
Still beautiful,
But no longer illuminated.

~ Russ Allison Loar
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The Aged Ones

We are the aged ones,
The last ones living off inheritances,
Nothing much left for the next generation,
Crumbling infrastructures,

We mutely observe the passing of an age,
Greedily outliving all expectations.

~ Russ Allison Loar
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A Little Space

A little space
Is all I need
To sit and rest
And plant a seed,
To someday root
To someday grow
So when I’m old
I’ll someday know.

~ Russ Allison Loar
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The impossible holds me in tight embrace,
No longer a harmless dream.

What was tranquil,
Is all jagged edges,
Without form,
Without logic.

All my answers have turned into questions,
And all my questions are in a language
I no longer understand.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved