April 8, 2020

Abiding Faith

We're buying time and biding time.
We mind the time, abiding. I abide in
my abode, a place called home.
I bid my neighbors hello from across
the fence or across the pasture. They,
too, are biding time, abiding, homing
in . . . on something. We know not yet
what. They – we – take shelter in the
places of our abode. Our bodies abide
at home. We do not bid or bet against
one another. Still, this abiding is getting
expensive. It costs a living, for some.
For others, it costs a life. Some do not
abide at home, some cannot. Some do
not abide. They bid the world farewell.
They cannot buy enough time to bide.
They lose that bid. Their bodies find a
new abode, and their spirits take up
residence among the living, abiding
faithfully in the memories and deep
tissues of those still biding time.