“just like yesterday” and Five Other Poems

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Vol. 21, No. 2 (Fall 2022): 24-29

just like yesterday” and Other Poems

Todd Sukany

just like yesterday

and the yesterday before that one,

I peer backward in time, pining for days of old, the good life, the leeks of Egypt (or whatever land I recently called home). and just like yesterday, I find no trail, no path, no shortcut, and I grow more salty.

Of Memes and Headlines

The lower case “g” on your spelling of God reduces His existence in His universe

like a single herring snatched from a mega-shoal

while you become a cement-filled bobber at the bottom of an ocean of love.

Until the Lion Walks among Us

“And your spoil shall be gathered . . . .” -- Isaiah 33:4

A squad of jackals has been gathering just outside the steps and earshot

of the others. They howl like air escaping a giant Teflon balloon. Collecting

has been their main activity for years. Of late, their diet has expanded toward

mortal philosophy and empty deceit, in a word: melons. As the waste lines

increase and they plump on their own devices, the roar of visitation is being felt just over the hill.

In the City of Gold

“And, behold, they cried out, saying, What have we to do with thee, Jesus . . .” -- Matthew 8:29

Once again a season of singing affirms: an hour with the Lord is as a timeless jewel. Song after song declare His holiness. A chorus

explores the mystery of Christ in us, the hope of glory. How sweet the sound that turns a wretch like me into a blob of snot and tears.

An angel, taller than the building, invites three others to join our refrain on their speedy way to another appointment.

Once again, dirty rats scurry back into holes of darkness like pigs into a sea.

In Tent

(Minnie Harris Park in Harrison, AR)

As the family gathers, the heat should be oppressive, but no.

Some begin to lift hands, a joyful noise, and Gramma G breaks into dance,

her age closest to the temperature. Several children stop coloring

long enough to smile. Soon the tent is rocking . . . Holy, Holy, Holy.

The next two hours blaze by as quickly as the cool breeze brushing against the fans.

Before the Council

“And he went in and sat down with the guards . . .” Matthew 26:58

I expect him to walk out . . . about . . . now, while I stand before this fire, eavesdropping, counting the flock of witnesses-Barach, lover of the windy, Nani, leader of the house, Mitchiam, exemplar for the waffle-all spilling stories and half-truths.

Any second now, I expect him to walk out, truck right through the midst of them, past security, and not even flip a whip.

This third time, I expect him to walk out, without a sound, part the gaggle of guards, and head back to camp. Once there, he will stare into our souls and say “Children, beware of the rooster,” as though we know what that means.