Returning

By Ilana Jacobs

There stands a man ignored by perceivers, surveying all he purveys Like a statue standing guard over God’s city.

He can see the hallowed hallways on his way home, passing stray cats that balance on ruined walls and broken buildings strewn about He walks towards the top of the city, But he will never reach home.

God is waiting for him at the door, with dinner waiting on the table but the man still carries a conversation with God as he goes along, Never raising his voice beyond a whisper, because God is as close as a king to his son And listens with pricked ears.

“Maybe I will run far away,” says the man to the cats and God. “And maybe I will follow you,” they say. “But you cannot follow me, Or there would be no dinner waiting on the table when I return home.”