Oh the Bishop Stood and Sat by Elliot Lakefield

Oh the Bishop Stood and Sat
by Elliot Lakefield

Oh, the bishop stood and sat, and then stood some more. And organs played, and voices spoke, and the bishop read from the Bible and sang us a song. And the organ played some more after bells tolled and roiled through the church like smoke. Sunlight trickled through the windows in reds and blues and yellows and greens, in colors the bishop would say God made. Perhaps He has. Perhaps She meant for this to happen as it did. Perhaps the suffering was the littlest suffering, and the tears are water for nurture, and the aches are nothing more than the soul’s growing pains.

Oh, the bishop stood and sat, and the flowers were beautiful, they looked just like those you liked. Just like those you knew. And I hoped we looked just like those he knew, too, and not like men and women of sadness which he could not recognize, for he always made us laugh, and never saw tears like these until today. Never did I look at you through blurry eyes that could not find their place, darting from hazy paintings to flowers and flickering candles. Never did I laugh through tears such as today, and never do I hope to laugh as such again if this is the price.

Oh, the bishop stood and sat, and we stood too. And God took you in the palm of Their hand and we watched as you were shepherded and sheltered from the storm. Rain fell on the stone floor. And I laughed as the bishop said amen and I said amen too, taking his word that you were all alright and would be forevermore. And we walked and handed you a hi, and you said hi how are you back, and asked if I’d got the engine rolling and whether or not you’d see your old car drive again. No worries, I said, and gave you a flower of red, the engine ain’t rolling yet, but don’t you worry, it will. Yes, the car will drive, and when it drives then you’ll be driving too.

Oh, the bishop stood and sat, and then I know nothing more. All was blurry as they played you Presley, and I could not hear what was said, if any at all, or who did what or what there was. The candle was flickering like a blurry headlight through a rainy pane. Oh well, you were tired and so weary, and you had to go alone. The Lord came and called you to the valley. And now there is peace, peace in the valley. There’ll be no sadness, no sorrow, no trouble.

Oh, the bishop stood and sat, and I sat, then stood. And I walked away with your eyes on my back, forevermore, watching me go, go to my valley.

About the author:

Elliot Lakefield is a writer, poet, and painter. His short fiction has appeared in La Piccioletta Barca, Calicé Magazine, Half and One, and elsewhere. His genre story won a fiction competition at Calicé Magazine. He lives in Uppsala, Sweden, where he is completing a degree in art history and seeking representation for his first book.