enduring ... for the hope of the joy

sometimes he'd sleep under the stars
or in the moonlit shade of some tree ..
or not

sometimes he'd stay with a friend
a night
   or two

he travelled quite a bit
on sandalled foot

occasionally some kind soul would fix a hot meal
a bowl of soup with fish and veg and leeks
or give him a loaf of bread
and a fish
   or two

sometimes he'd wander into a field of grain
eat it raw
or pluck a fig
   or two

he bathed in cold streams along the way
'cept when a friend poured a warmed bath
and he got to lather with homemade soap
rub down with oil of olive

he had a change of clothes, you know
but that was for sabbath ..
the only time he changed recently
was when that kind woman gave him her husband's  ..
he was gone now

mostly he lived off what the land offered
or a friend
or a kindhearted soul

he was hungry sometimes
thirsty
needed a change of wear
could have used a good night's sleep
   or two
on a plush feather bed
or in a hay loft

but mostly
he was lonely
 .... .. .

he missed home
the company
around a warm fire
belly full
wine poured

he missed Dad's company
missed seeing him
long walks into the darkness of night
long talks into the darkness

Dad
eyebrows raised quizzically at some oddity
some curiosity
mouth turned up in one corner at some laughable incident
eyes wide in wonder
excited at some new plan for the garden
or the tent

lonely here

but not alone
ever

Dad always there
somehow ..
always ...
busy doing this and that
or simply gazing into the marvel of space
thoughtful eyes squinting slightly
mind wandering
turning like the innards of some old pocket watch
that never seemed to die
ever ticking away in somebody's fob pocket
barely noticed

until
time runs out ..
then they fumble frantically for it
pull it out by the chain
and gaze
as if it just couldn't be that time already ...
always on time
faithful as ever

Dad was there
always there
always on time ...
always

and when the night stretched out too long for sleeplessness
or it got too cold to even dream of sleep
he'd talk
   amid chattering teeth and blued lips
to Dad

" why am i here again ? "
" remind me "
as if he really needed reminding ...
just to have someone to talk to
hear his voice
clear as that stream he'd washed in yesterday
gentle as that kind old woman's touch
   when she pulled out the fishhook from his left heel
   and daubed that rusty cut with ointment ...
healing
warming
filling
comfortable

love that voice ...

always

sometimes
he just needed someone to talk to
anyone
someone to eat with
anyone
someone to just sit close by
listen to the street musicians ply their sounds
sweet notes in the evening light ...
anyone

lonely days
lonely nights ...

but
for the joy set before him
he endured

.... .. . . .

and now
he's home
with Dad
again
walking in the dark light of the stars
talking into the darkness

about us
and light
and salt
and love
and stuff ...

and i can't wait ...