Literary Magazine

Mecca | Robert Wright

I crawl

slowly

out of a closet forty-five years wide

(i am not one for grand entrances)

and shade my eyes from the light.

 

I fall

hard

for Him.

 

I wander

with no guide

down a hallway two years long

turning every doorknob

flipping every switch

to find the secret to make Him love me.

 

I fall

suddenly

into a black hole five years deep.

 

I climb

bloody hand over bloody hand

to the top.

 

I fly

on the ground

down a highway twenty-two hours long

to find the magic.

 

I dive

head first

into a river twelve months long

only to see the magic disappear.

 

I tiptoe

from here to there to him to him to him

never finding a spot that is safe

(and soft)

enough to rest.

My pilgrimage (an exercise in narcissism my therapist says)

ends.

 

I stand

alone

my broken dreams and disappointments

burning lactic acid in the muscle of my aching heart.

 

I kneel.

 

I pray.

 

I weep.


Robert Wright is a health care attorney in Little Rock, Arkansas.