[antigonish]

Yesterday, upon the stair,

I met a man who wasn't there.

He wasn't there again today.

I wish, I wish he'd go away.

This is the final stanza from a poem called Antigonish. It's about a haunting, and it's been stuck in my head for days. I suppose it's fitting. I've felt haunted lately, as if my footsteps were being dogged by something just beyond my peripheral vision. It's a gnawing feeling, biting at my insides and whenever I try to grasp the edges, it drifts away: a hallucination. 

I think I have all the pieces, but I don't know how to order them; or, maybe I'm still too frightened to face them all. Sometimes I think maybe it was a dream, and I wake up murmuring, "I met a man who wasn't there." That's not to say I have no evidence to hold, because I do, and I keep it bound carefully- still too afraid to release it- but sometimes I think I made it all up anyway, or that it was a pretty dream, and maybe I'm still dreaming. Then I drift into scary psychological realms where I wonder if anything is really happening at all. What if this is all a hallucination? 

Although, as many times as I say to myself, "I wish, I wish he'd go away," I don't, not really. I think to lose it all would grieve me worse...I'm where I need to be so Christ can mold me and refine me to be who I should be...and I wouldn't be here without the necessary turns and choices I've made. At times I wonder how things would be if I'd made better choices or been a better person. Still, I trust Him, and I know He will never fail me. Time and again, He walks with me through flame to bring me to something better...and I suppose that makes the puzzle irrelevant. Things settle...like a snow-globe. Different, but settled. A good friend once told me that. I like snow-globes.