After the Funeral

Loneliness
Like the bitter cold
Seeps
Under the door sills
And fingernails
And window frames
And eyelids
And settles
Deep
Into the marrow of my bones.

And good deeds
Of the day
blown
Like the dried leaves
And prayers
And bare branches
And tears
Away
From the recess of my heart.

At midnight
I have nothing to offer you,
Nothing that I can give back.
I am a dry well,
And an abandoned cellar.

So, fill me Lord.
Pour out Your Spirit on me,
And make me Your vessel.

For of myself,
I am nothing.

All is gone out of me,
Like the guttering flame
Of a single taper.
One
last gasp,
And
Darkness.

Jennifer D. Behnke - March 5, 2017