All Over Creation (revised)

All Over Creation And Back

Some nights, a walk seems to be
creation in the making, the Biblical
seven days squeezed into an hour,
the wandering tired Me, two days gone

in suicide assessment and training,
learning what I know intuitively but not
always practicing. It's hard work we do,
front line, but not nearly as hard as the work

those we meet are doing. Such hard hard
work to want to be alive. To want to stay alive.
To believe there is a reason. At the first turn

of the block, Molly and I see three people
and a large dog coming our way. I believe
dogs know dogs, but people don't always

let dogs know dogs, and, of all breeds,
it's a Rottweiler, a breed I have been frightened
of for far too long. His name was Jay. He and Molly

exchanged their smell time and that was that.
My fears exaggerated and vanquished meant
nothing to the adrenal glands, which had been

in hyperdrive from the time I spied him, from
the time I first learned fear so many years ago.
Molly & I kept on until we reached the video

rental place so I could drop off Hugo. Then,
we crossed the street to the Red Door church
where a statue of Mary embraces the weary

walkers as they pass by and shows the same
affection for the energetic joggers, drenched
in the clean sweat only the healthy know. Molly

rolled over and over again in front of Mary, her legs
shaking confession to the bright evening stars.
Mary didn't do anything except embrace us.

We walked until we came to the street I used
to live on. As we approached, I saw the telephone
pole and remembered. I was on the phone

with my Granny, and I said, Did you hear that,
Granny? It sounds like my house is falling in.
Let me call you back. Out front, a car had crashed

into the telephone pole, an older man
was behind the wheel, his head bleeding,
his wife asking what had happened.

They were ok. Just shook up. Probably
not as much as me. And then I thought
about my dream last night. My oldest

son running into a cave to catch a baseball,
me screaming it's dark in there. Do you hear
me? Are you ok? Son? Son? And, he came

out, ball in his glove, in his khaki shorts
and white t shirt and I woke up this morning
missing my children and those days.

And, that's that. That was tonight.