Day 62: Mid-Day

Isaiah 62

They will be called the Holy People,
the Redeemed of the LORD;
and you will be called Sought After,
the City No Longer Deserted.

Clinging, desperate, empty.
Between my eyes, i can feel.
Your appeal is that you walk;

drags me to scramble after you.
Head up, eyes forward,
seeing streets of green promise.

Environmental renewal or
energy inefficient seaside resorts,
you have a vision

and i am always seeking one.
i consist of depths, walled in
muddied sand, colors bland

and blending together in continuing
labyrinthine cascades of
self-searching contemplation.

Am i so sure? For i need
knotty hands to join with me,
nodding heads for security,

even intellectuals who agree.
i can stand separate, but even trees
grow in groves, can we not

cleave ideologies? Can you not
believe? Can you not stop
and have some coffee,

and stay and talk with me?
Can you not see the empty
hope i have, the hollow joy?

How can i hold my head
above ground if it is not
held by steadfast hands?

You might. But what
would you call me?
What would you call me?

Clinging?
Desperate?
Empty?
Redeemed?