Ian

We knew each other for barely one day,

But on that bus ride

We talked until our minds buzzed,

And our throats grew hoarse,

Cherry blossoms and snow-capped mountains,

Staring at us as we passed.

Before I talked to you,

I was racking my brain

Trying to figure out

What language you were speaking.

Turned out you were from Norway,

The youngest in your family

At nineteen,

And a very good English speaker.

My memory’s fuzzy, but I believe you were

Tall and thin,

With brown hair, stubble,

And glasses.

You had a warm voice,

And you were, at least I thought,

As interested in me

As I was in you. 

We talked about obvious things at first,

But then something shifted, 

And we were talking about God.

You were agnostic, or, as you put it,

“The most spiritual one in my family,”

Skeptical of the world and its religions.

I was, and still am,

A believer of Yeshua,

But with strange ways…

Or you said so, anyway.

We both had a thirst for truth.

We talked for what felt like hours,

And yet no time at all.

I laughed a lot, maybe too much.

I said sorry a lot, too,

But you didn’t seem to mind.

It was one of the greatest conversations

That I’ve ever had,

And I wish people

Could always be that honest with each other.

Disagree,

But stay friends.

I wonder where you are.

Back home in Norway?

Are you as tired

As I am?

Fellow pilgrim, I will pray for you,

And hope you are all right.

If you think of me

Only once

In the rest of your life,

Then know this:

My brother,

If Yeshua can love me

A faithless kid, with only a couple

Scribbled in notebooks

To show for years of work,

Then, my brother, He will make you

His son and heir,

And give you Truth.

I may never see you again,

And that makes me sad,

But if you make your choice,

We will be together soon.

When Yeshua comes back,

Ask Him to find me for you.

By then, we should have a lot more

To talk about.