(Sitting on a red curb at the corner of Noyes and Reed)
I wonder how long I will live here?
In this beautiful city of friends and lies and distraction.
I really enjoy it, but I wonder if I will stay forever.
I went for a walk in Pacific Beach to find out what it was missing, but, instead, I realized that to intentionally search for shortcomings is an arrogant and failing endeavor. My focus should first be set on celebrating what they already have.
Tonight I sit on a line, tying the full September moon to the trickle of water from a fountain in the courtyard of the four-plex behind me. The streets are in bad shape, for America, and every once in a while a car turns a little too close to my toes. Generally, the crickets drown-out the hum of the distant automobiles and the only anti-rhythmic sound I hear is the occasional splash of a miss-calibrated sprinkler on the sidewalk.
I have passed beauty on this night. I went searching for gaps and I found bridges. Not strong bridges, but bridges that men have built on their own. With their own hands. With each other.
This is no small accomplishment.
This is praiseworthy.
This is good.
This is a start.
I found bridges built by men who desperately needed to cross a canyon and found a way, with each other, to make it.
It is beautiful.
I passed a house of young men sitting around a coffee table. Laughing and smoking like commentary over a soundtrack of rock music, clanking beer bottles, and rustling poker chips. Together.
I passed a candle-lit patio table. It illuminated the faces of an Irish family. Sipping wine and picking at the remnants of their dinner, they seem to have little more than the glowing faces that oppose them. They are together.
How do I celebrate this with them?
How do I comment on the valor of their bridge?
How do I introduce them to the Brilliant Engineer?
How do I reflect to them the great Architect of Our Hearts?
May they continue to need each other.
May they see the beauty in each others' faces.
May they find You in each other.
May they find You inside themselves.
Amen.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
2 comments:
How do I introduce them to the Brilliant Engineer?
You say that man has built the bridges, then you attribute it to God.
I wonder sometimes, If we as people can ever know which it really is. Are some bridges built only for burning?
Or like the Golden Gate...to be constantly and carefully strengthened freshly, each and every year?
I imagine it is like having a brave son or daughter. They come upon a creek and want to cross it. They find scrap wood and branches to build themselves a makeshift bridge. (They are built with this beautiful intuition)
The appropriate response from a parent seems to be that that say, "Good job! This is cool!" but then they show the child how to make the bridge even better.
I don't think bridges are ever built for burning. They are built for conquering big and small gaps.
Your Golden Gate metaphor is excellent.
Post a Comment