THE Christian Community Center

The early alarm blares and I fall out of bed
And into the contents of my suitcase.
Rolled across miles of highway and non-existent roads,
I land in a parking lot of a place I’ll call home
For weeks at a time.

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A myriad of bags stacked in the corner as
Our voices rise upward like the smoke of
A fire garnished with the fibers of a home-cooked meal.
Smiles flash hello and hands touch that haven’t touched in a year.
Palm to palm, our lines crossed in silent wonder as we whisper “how have you been?”

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The rush in the cabins as we pull sheets tight over unforgiving beds.
The ache in my head after I knocked it against the metal rail.
Lyrics of worship and adoration spill from our half-shy mouths,
Weaving a shroud in a building cast of wood.
The strum of guitar in the gently fading night
And the softness of sleep creeping in from the horizon.

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The Heavens Declare His Glory and the
Preacher declares His return.
We shift our sore backs on hard pews and place our minds on thoughts of You.

Then, the final night.
The burn of soda on our teeth among rampant footsteps and the echo of laughter from the
bathroom.
The yielding of the floor to late night conversations that always offer more than what was said.
The final swim in the midst of stars and croaking insects.

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Now, the quiet of the final morning.
The sudden rousing from beds, the sharp cold on revealed skin.
Soon, a stream of cars waving goodbye sandwiched in between a pink sky and the words “see you later.”

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                                                                                       Brionna