Come to Me

Come to me come to me come to me.  As the miles pass and the traffic disappears and the children quiet in the back seats, I hear You.  Come to me come to me come to me.  Like rumble strips.  Or maybe not even so much.  Like the tiny reflectors.  There is a path.  There is a place.  Come to me.  And oh, how I long to be with You.  How I want to come out to that place.  But tonight it just seems so far, those last steps so far and I am so weary, and all the noise noise noise noise has not faded away just yet.  Some days I feel like it just overwhelms me, the noise and the doing and the doing and the making and the smelling and the baking.  I feel lost and without the strength to break free of it, and so I sink back into it, small and still but too far in the middle of it to hear anything.  I become the spectator in the middle of a silent movie, watching it all go by and not quite entering into it.  Screaming roaring noisy crazy silent.  Come to me come to me come to me.  Come to me come to me come to me.