A Home for my Soul

“I feel unmoored, ” I said slowly, almost in a whisper. She seemed oddly terrified. Maybe she thinks I will drift away now that I have said it. I don’t recognize the fear. I don’t recognize us. We drink different poisons from life’s cauldron, and in our tinkering existence, we are all that will ever matter to us. “You mean you are unattached?” she asked, carefully maintaining a level pitch. I try to explain that I am tied to memories of people who no longer exist. That I cannot connect with the present as I have the past. I choose my words carefully. I ennunciate slowly, but my sentences bounce back. I thought I could show her my void, but I am left standing alone in this space.

“You will find a good man who walks in the word to keep you company. ” How can my peace be in a person? How can anyone find companionship in someone who isn’t here? I don’t need a distraction, I say, I just need a home for my soul.