The Altar

...inspired by the performance piece 'What's He Building In There?' by Tom Waits A green glow dribbles 'neath his door, and clamors of construction mutter, bellow and insinuate, his broken voice betrays a whole man, straining with a stutter. He comes and goes in dead of night, I mark his shuffling gait, his wheezing terrifies and taunts me, nervous as I am to peek, behold this stranger's face. The sounds persist for seven weeks, relentless, with a purpose, still I'm reluctant to confront this man, anxious, desirous. Then all at once the banging stops, the green glow disappears, I'm left to wonder what he built 'midst stammering and tears. Overwhelmed with curiosity I wait for his return, his latchkey kills my modesty, I stand before him now; elderly, his shoulders bent, palms pressed as if to pray, a penitent, upon his knees, head lowered in a bow. For in the stark and silent room an altar is revealed, intricate and fine beyond compare, with flowers and still photographs, a child is honored there, I took his arm and knelt with him in prayer. The line stretched down the hallway now, those offering respect, the passing of a little girl brought many to reflect.