Obligated No Less
A private, unlisted number may be
the solution for some unwanted calls
but not this one, a burden of obligation
that is inescapable. But this is not a
crank call, though the caller might
possibly be cranky. The phone rings and
uncanny intuition informs you both
simultaneously and you each whisper
'your turn' as though the caller could
hear the plea though not yet connected.
Sometimes it works and you take the
call and sometimes one of you just
happens to be too busy to pitch, and
the other is left with the call and though
some guilt is attached the other feels
relief washing over them. You know how
it is, an old friend, bereft and lonely and
compassion urges that you relieve that
quavering sense of alone-ness however
briefly with a cheerful conversation
mustered against your misery. Or it
could be a relative who calls incessantly
to air any number of familial complaints
dire accusations and predictions while
drumming your brain into insensibility.
But you respond, don't you because charity
insists that you do and of course as a
civilized grace and a blessing you do.
Friday, August 30, 2019
Labels:
Poetry
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