mundane routines in the loss of love

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falling short, again
from the prescribed way of being,
having much to do with my time
though only pertaining to the mundane.
house rules tend to quiet down
right after church night services
holy is the silence
and holier is the quarrelling mouths at rest.

midnight hours spent 
trying to keep the trains of thought at bay.
it is not enough to be educated
or to feel that there is more to life;
purpose knocking on my window
daring my frail arms to fly.

blessings are still in place yet
yes, it is so very true.
for the other night, I was surprised
white auspicious car outside
and Mordechai asking me to join the drive.

and it reminded me of
father I no longer know.
and all the times I sat passenger
while trouble outside threatened to grow.
and the tiny heart settling, 
growing thicker and stronger as to
leave the car as someone better
feeling safer and secure. 

gratitude to the love now lost
and gratitude to love found elsewhere.
even more so, for love given without condition
when these familial contracts turn unfair.
and tomorrow I will wake,
still yet deprived of somber sleep,
having much, still, to do with my time,
and often only pertaining to mundane things.

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