A poem (untitled)

You are rearranging the furniture in my soul.

Of course, I gave you the key to let Yourself in

whenever You wanted,

but I can’t get over coming home and

seeing everything shifted.

Some of my favorite things are gone,

some of the things I used to cling to for security.

I still go looking and grow angry to find them gone.

I miss the complacency, the mediocrity,

the stagnation, but I relish the abandon more.

Your Presence leaves a warmth in the room.

It fills me more fully than all the clutter

which used to linger within. 

With a lot of the garbage gone, I can seek you out.

I can rest in the present, in the Presence,

in calm, in tranquility, undisturbed, except by

what you choose for me. 

I wait for You to come.

I never thought waiting for the Moving Man could be so right. 


Karen Pilman
Acworth, GA