mdapel

Copy, Story, ETC.

The Stale and The Useless

Today, before the leaving of homes,
before the dawn of coffee,
after rising from sleep,
and while sifting through old journals,
I stumbled upon God.

Snug in the binding,
not hiding, but hidden,
among lyrics and lists,
next to noble hopes and notes
He lounged affixed to a doodle.

He lunged out
leaping from page to page
nonchalantly chanting:
“Behold I make all things new”
"Prove it,” I chanted back back.
then he swung
from a grocery list of junk food
towards an inscription I had jotted down
sometime after 9/11
saying “do what feels good.”

How different I feel now,
peering into a time capsule of my own words,
Like towers of youth and angst,
tethered once,
now fallen and extinguished.

How trite it seems now, here at the end,
to tell you about all the new things
I've been seeing lately,
sprouting from trash cans,
germinating in the waste.
emerging from the stale and the useless,
approaching the Man
who cleans off the ashes.