Haunted

Photo by Clark Van Der Beken on Unsplash 

I am still getting used to the noises of my new place — how the doings of my downstairs neighbors sound like someone walking on the roof, or how the brick walls whisper and creak in the heat. It is the perfect spot to release attachment to strictly rational thinking.

Sitting in my reading chair,

I hear what I think is a sigh behind me—

Look up to see the empty room,

the waning light,

the evening slipping into the shape of my windows,

the lamp reflected in the tree tops.

There is nothing there — or — Everything is there.

“This is a place of sanctuary,” I say.

“You may stay here and be welcome,

if you are willing to immerse yourself in the stream of infinite Love

and touch your nose to the cheek of the divine.

Otherwise, leave.

This place is not for you.”

The room goes silent.

Evening cricket songs swell.

The light flashes orange as it dips beneath the horizon.

I touch my nose to the cheek of the divine.