From here to Peoria and back

Sometimes I think I should always be able to come up with something profound to say.  Nope.  Yesterday nothing came.  Oh sure, there were things spinning through my head.  Still... nothing that wanted to be said out loud.  This morning I remembered that time, eight, maybe nine years ago now, when I knew I was supposed to visit the Bishop of the Diocese of Quincy, but was not given anything to say.  On my drive to see him I kept asking for words.  None ever came.  I found myself meeting with him saying:  I know I am supposed to meet with you, but I have no idea what to say. Awkward?  Indeed.  So we started from scratch.  I took a different route home. I guess I am still taking different routes.

The last time I remember

No words

No matter how hard I tried

To connect with God,

Find a well-tuned speech,

Even a nicely turned phrase,

I drove to Peoria,

Met with the Bishop there.

I told him I knew

We needed to meet

But I had found no words

To speak.

So

We spoke from scratch.

I drove home another way.

Nine years later

I have found           

The no word place again.

Now that place rests

Closer to home.

I wonder if

In the end

There will be no words

And we will all need to start

From scratch.