Two better destinations have I, backward and before,
and here I am between them for an hour’s time or more.
Behind me was a city that was full of those I knew,
the city that I go to has all of those people too.
But here in this drab airport there are only some who stay—
who took the same plane I did, or were already o’erlayed.
What are we, then, to do here, while we wait for our next plane?
What shall we do to pass the time until we’re home again?
Some spend their time with all the shops that litter the airport,
and others stalk the information signs for their report.
But I saw one who took, instead of levity or stress,
the gifts inside his bag, and, with them, did the others bless.
He pulled from out his pack his souvenirs from our old home,
and showed then to the others who were sad, or were alone.
And what a blessing was he! Fearing not this hopeless place!
He could ignore discomfort and had joy upon his face!
For while the rest of us saw only cruel denial here
(and some used it for anger) he could stamp away its fear.
And what was it we saw upon his face while ours were bored?
His was the happiest—and the most easily ignored.
None but the ones in front of him realized what they had,
the lies the airport taught them were but one distracting fad.
They saw, when they could see him, that same life they’d left behind—
the life they’d left the old one in the very hope to find.
That man who made the layover a blessing for his friends,
ne’er left the old home, and already to the new one lends.
Be not distracted by the shops, the advertisements here,
use what you brought from heaven to establish hope and cheer.
~~~
We shouldn’t even be discussing you.
It’s not what you’d have wanted us to do.
Not how you wrote. Not knowing what you knew—
not knowing all the things that you went through.
How soon we miss the mark on all these things.
Each case like yours, all of our folly, brings.
How vain our gossips and our envyings
on even one who made your offerings.
And what, indeed, are we to learn from you?
What should we do, seeing what you would do?
What should we know, now knowing what you knew—
now knowing all the things that you went through?
You wrote of Christ, and of his endless grace.
How does he see the judgment on our face?