This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside.
-David Foster Wallace
Walking through a delirium,
I was tired.
The sand felt like purgatory,
A rising incline into a forever
That my mind numbed against.
I was awash of intentions, thought, even interest.
I had, in short, nothing left.
Then the pillars came into view.
As if begging for a story, a reason for being,
I was pulled, staggeringly, as if reeled from a
Fishing line to those salted gray walls,
The shards of church windows poking out of weathered frames.
What is that felt echo? St. Ignatius? The Archange? Michael? My brother?
I am so empty.
I sat down on the stone to rest the non-feeling.
The tide lapping into my mind.
I wanted none of it.
But there it was, anyway.
Persistent. Maddening. Life-giving.
*The Church By The Ocean