Just Want

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

“O God, come to my aid; O Lord, make haste,”
so Cassian insisted we should pray:
The oft-chewed syllables have lost their taste,
a muted cry in morning’s washed-out gray
as, elbows on my knees, I hang my head
and seek the strength for getting out of bed.
O God, what can I tell you?  I just want—
What more, beyond this roof, these walls, the bed,
full fridge, hot water flowing like a font?
And yet the words come ringing in my head,
“I just want—” and they hang unspoken there,
unfinished as the soul they’re laying bare.
O God, O infinite as my desire,
I am an empty maw that longs to cram
all things inside.  “I just want—”  I’m a liar:
I want it all.  A want is what I am,
and you are give.  I just want, and I find
always another I-just-want behind.
O God, as everlasting as my need,
there was a time this hollow heart was filled:
You set a place and sat me down to feed,
and every I-just-want at last was stilled.
It seems so long ago.  I just want, now,
to get out of this bed.  Please tell me how.
O God, though I am only emptiness,
you still have made the sun to rise again,
and if the day is stale and flavorless,
still it is here.  So give me courage, then:
O God, come to my aid; O Lord, make haste,
and fill this hunger once more with your taste.  Amen.