The Wanderer’s Prayer

The Wanderer’s Prayer

Chelsea D. Mongeau

I have found myself trapped in a season of hunger.
A banquet of plenty cannot satiate me.
My memory has since dulled the sting of remembrance
Of the long stretches of days subsisting on
Nothing more than a meal of a mustard seed.
Those days are a paradox:
The sky of the darkest hours of my darkest days
Burning alight by a supernova in Andromeda.

First, I looked for You in the mountains.
I’ll be honest
My ego and I had a clear vision of our meeting.
Myself as Moses on Mount Sinai,
Except, You know,
In the American sequel.
Or maybe when I reached the summit
We would reenact
Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam.
Instead, I met You near the base of the Shenandoah
Not nearly 15 minutes later,
Drenched in sweat, rasping fervent prayers.
Has anyone ever said
You have a sense of humor?

I’ve looked for You other places:
The soft, gentle slumber of the dog against my chest;
Curved buds of new Maranta leuconeura leaves
Unfurling their praying hands
Without restraint into a brave new world.
I’ve looked for You in philia, friendship love, and eros, romantic love.
Even self-love, philautia love, can You believe it?
But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t believe
That I missed You most
When the world was just You and me.
I miss the pang of needing You
Just as desperately as lungs need air
And newborns need their mothers.
I think all this to say
I miss being desperate for You, and I miss being hungry.
No one asks to be broken
But there’s an abject beauty
A surreal grace to
Not just knowing but knowing
A brokenness made complete through You.

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Chelsea D. Mongeau
Poet & Writer

Chelsea is a writer and poet living in Annapolis. When she's not tripping down (or up) a mountain, you can find her with her nose in a book or down by the Eastern Shore with her dog, Chester. You can follow more of her work on Instagram at @chelsea.mongeau.

Photography by Daniel Olah