The book that came to me #1

After sixteen years again, I did go,
to this retreat house, once more.
The first was for a youth retreat.
The second was when I felt like dead meat.

Well, that was almost four years ago.
Seemed like from the bottom of a pit of woes.
Desperately seeking the man in the clouds,
Began six years from now, though not out loud.

So to Potta, I went,
in search of advent.
I'd been there before; I knew what to expect.
I knew I'd have to meditate, pray and introspect.

On the very first day, confessions were happening.
Serpentine queues for hours, a bit maddening.
I went during the summer vacation, wrong time to go.
Too much of a crowd; my fault. Bad timing, I know.

When my turn came, I was all excited to begin.
The healing process and all from within.
But the old priest just started to frown and yell at me.
Remembering that experience the next day, I felt a bit crappy.

So for the counseling session, again in a big line.
Waiting for my turn to speak to a counselor to be assigned.
There were about thirty of them, all busy and all.
A maximum of fifteen minutes for each case, I seen in that hall.

I made a mental note and assessed the situation.
Short-listing three of them who wouldn't resort to condescension.
One of these three was a pretty little lady.
Grey eyes, long skirt-and-blouse, out there seemingly flaky.

Since she wasn't in traditional, conservative attire like everyone else out there.
I knew she had to be an Anglo-Indian with no need for me to despair.
She probably wouldn't shout and yell at me.
At least speak to me a while properly.

I shortlisted two other men who seemed somewhat smiley.
But you don't get a choice and just have to go to whoever is free.
Just before my turn,
I noticed this lady was already done.

She got up from her seat.
Headed for a lunch break, to eat.
Finally it was my turn, and another counselor was free.
But I just ran and sat right in front of this coloured-eyed lady.

Handbag on her shoulder, already a few steps away.
Typical Anglo style, "my girl" she did say.
"I'm leaving for lunch; I'm done for the day."
But I kept sitting and smiling like a spaz, anyway.

I didn't say a word; but I didn't move.
Finally, she succumbed and got into the groove.
Later that day in my room, my roommates pointed out.
When asked, I said I had no concerns and that was their doubt.

Because if it were as I had claimed, 
why was I with the counsellor for 1.5hour?
I hadn't realized it had been that long.
People at the end of the queue were long past gone.

But I sat with Kareena, that grey-eyed lady.
Somewhere in her mid fifties she'd be, maybe.
At the end of it all, she told me to get my hands on a prayer book.
So I asked her for the name and told her, online I'd buy and look.

To that she told me, it couldn't be bought.
And I assured her I'll find it, if I ought.
She told me the book was never sold.
It's always a free copy given to every soul.

"I'm here at Potta; and we're not supposed to be doing this.
His methods are unconventional, so Catholics grumble and dismiss."
Then she hesitated and gave me her number.
With a look of pity and a troubled wonder.

Out of her handbag, she handed me this tiny book.
One third the size of my phone, not interesting to look.
Thought to myself, another among hundreds to be added to my collection.
When you need to pray, which idiot opens up a book from a selection?

It was her personal copy.
With notes and markings, a bit shabby.
"You need it more than I do", said the lady.

Tenth of may.
I'll never forget that day.
Just about everything coincided.
The epicenter of an invisible battle, collided.

The moment that little book came unto me.
Lord, my God, what did you let them do to me?
This book in my hand, sitting in Kerala far away,
the devil too planted his vermin that very moment, that day. be continued!
Β© Copyright Protected. All Rights Reserved.
(This pic has some of the many friends I made at Potta. It was lovely to meet people from all over the country. The people in this pic became very dear to me. Not in regular contact, yet very close.)


    1. Thank you Cindy πŸŽ€πŸ’ŸπŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ’ŸπŸŽ€ ….quite an adventure it has been!πŸ˜…πŸ˜„πŸ˜πŸ˜……. it was just meant to happen…in a wayπŸ˜‰

      Liked by 1 person

    1. It brought light to me….i
      n the most bitter sweet way.
      I’m not exactly sure how to say….
      ….more bitter than sweet….
      but light anyway….

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Bitter Sweet When Someone Tells You
        They Want Your Light
        Captures Traps Your
        Heart Roasts It Over
        An Open Fire
        For Light
        Feels No
        Other Option
        You are Sincere
        And True Rue
        It’s A Very
        All Is
        Beauty of
        God Worth
        To Do JeSuS
        Than Talk
        Jesus’ Is
        No Ability
        To Send
        To Hell
        F You
        Come Back
        Again As Psychopaths
        Are Born With No Soul
        Empaths Are Born
        Feeling All


        i Dance

        i Sing


        To keep

        A Safe


        To Avoid

        A Total


        Of My SuN


        For The



        Moon Shines

        In My Windows… πŸ₯€πŸ’«πŸ™

        Liked by 2 people

    1. Even I really want to know what happens next πŸ˜…πŸ€£πŸ˜‚πŸ˜œ…
      Jokes apart …thank you Dawn….you’re a very kind soul πŸŽ€πŸ’πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ’ŸπŸŽ€πŸ’πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ’Ÿ

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Praise Jesus πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜‚πŸ™‚πŸ™πŸΌπŸ™πŸΌπŸ™πŸΌπŸ™πŸΌπŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜‚πŸ€©πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ˜πŸ€©πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

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