Those carefree days of Summer are a dim and distant dream.
Autumn’s blaze of colours seems so very far away.
I lay my sleeping bag behind a row of bins that make a useful screen.
I close my eyes and let the icy winds of winter slip away.
I often dream of Jonah, who was carried safely in the belly of a whale.
He found his strength down in the depths of hopelessness, beneath the sea.
He rose again with purpose and with courage and became a man who would not fail.
I see him sanctified and unafraid and wish that man were me.
I was righteous once. I bore my load and paid my dues.
I had a home. I had a family. I had a reason to believe.
I never really understood how much I had to lose.
Insane resentment led to anger and I simply took my leave.
It was like a madness or some strange demonic whisper in my ears.
I thought my love had found another, and my anger blazed beyond control.
Despite the protestations, the entreaties, and the tears.
I grabbed a bottle and a bag and left what once had been a loving home.
Jonah came again last night to haunt my dreams and take me by the hand.
His eyes were shining with elation and excitement as he rose up from the shore.
Dragging me along and speaking in a language that I could not understand.
He took me to a stone-sealed cave that I have never seen before.
The night was dark and stormy, and the wailing of the wind was like a mother’s cry.
Suddenly, I knew exactly where I was, and terrified, I threw myself upon the ground.
I lay there, trembling until dawn, and even then, I dared not open up my eyes.
But the I heard a voice, as gentle as a dove, who told me that my life would turn around.
I felt a tear upon my face that roused me from my dream. I thought it was the rain.
I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder and familiar fingers touched my hair.
I looked up from my sleeping bag to see a face I thought I’d never see again.
Come home, love – it’s Christmas Day. Let’s try to start again.