I cannot comprehend their meaning,
all the angels and ones who gather in the clouds
who descend to try to tell me one thing or another.
I simply wish they would make their message plain
or leave me the hell alone. 

Or you would make their meaning plain to me,
who is apparently still blind and does not see.

Even the dead governor talks to me, 
showing me a scene on a Sunday morning when 
he hugged me in church then withdrew, apologizing
with some obscure comment about not wanting
his hug to be misinterpreted.

And the one whose name I do not recall, who was
not there but shows me that moment in the hall

When you looked at me and reminded me, maybe
not really meaning to or knowing not that you did,
of who we were outside of this hall of mirrors life
and spoke the words you well know, nearly
30 years ago now... as if I need reminding.

And then there are all your weeping family members,
though I know not for what or whom they weep.
 
Their crying exhausts me and, really, why 
should I care for their cause when they fail 
to speak clear... and nobody seems to come
for me. These random people I barely knew
or did not know at all always come to call.

I open my heart, ask that it be a vessel for healing
whatever they are trying to tell or show me.