Letters To God

Tuesday morning
I drove home from the interstate
expecting maudlin clouds
to lazily sigh.

But there was no sky covering,
only direct sunlight.

Turning on the exit ramp
that would lead me home
someone caught my eye.
An old man,
fatigued with travel,
stood in grassy security.
He wore a walking robe
simple yet his own,
discolored and ripped.
In his hand was a hefty stack
that looked like papers of some sort,
maybe advertisements.

I honestly felt bad for him
and as I passed at normal speed,
I realized he was smiling.

Happy,
though he could have been waiting
all day.

A quarter of a mile
One half of a mile
One mile
A mile and a half
- Stop -

I pulled over,
nervous as highway users merged
and back-tracked to approach the man.

Keeping a fair distance
I shouted over,
" Do you need help, Sir? "

A raspy rumbling voice replied,
" No thank you, just awaiting my ride. "

I blinked twice, general concern
radiating off my expression.
" Will they be here soon to pick you up? "

The man shook his head curiously
as if something was stuck between his ears.
" Not sure when, but I know she's coming... "

Noticing his hard determination,
I still persisted.
" Why don't you let me take you home? "

A soft answer,
" I don't have a home.
She is my home and my life. "

I worried he had been rehearsing
his rescue in his mind,
without common sense.

I shifted position.
" What is that in your hand? "

The man eyed me,
not suspiciously but trying to read my face.
" Some papers..."

Not even two minutes later,
he stirred and waved.
I couldn't see any car near
but he was clearly welcoming.
" There she is, I'm going now."

I didn't know what he was talking about
but I followed him while he crossed,
watching him cautiously.

" Take it easy and stay safe out here. "
I projected my voice straight toward him,
he seemed like a good man
and I hoped his one love would come.

" Goodbye little lady."

He continued down the right lane
trudging carefully but firmly.
I headed in the opposite direction
and drifted away from him
glancing out of my rear view mirror,
to make sure he wasn't a dream.

I didn't know what to think
but his smile carved its joy
into every thought I conjured.

Two days later...

A psychofrenic sixty-five year old male
was hit headfirst by a thirty-two year
old male truck driver just this morning.
The collision immediately took his life.
This man had just escaped the mental institute
and had been roaming urban areas.
He was crossing over Highway 23,
imagining on the other side
was his chance at freedom.

Hundreds of scrunched letters
were found laying around the scene
pertaining to religion.
They were entitled to a fake address
and it is thought, this man,
Samuel White,
was planning to send them to Heaven.
He believed this was wholly possible.
There he thought he would find
his wife who abandoned him
in his unstable psychological state.
Forgiveness he desperately wanted
as a lonely soul
fighting for redemption.
At last, he has taken his place,
at home.