Jonah doesn’t follow me around.
There he is, under the bush.
He isn’t sulking.
He isn’t talking.
He sits.
Heat rises off him.
Hum and glow halo him.
You can approach, or you can go back,
It’s all the same to Jonah.
Under the bush, eyes to the distance,
What he sees is not what you see,
Or maybe it is. Who can tell?
Jonah will not talk,
At least not to you.
Jonah is in a place
Beyond words.
Words must be found
When questions are asked,
But it is a long way back
From a place beyond words.