What's in a Sactuary?

I’ve found myself sitting alone at a cold, plastic table inside PCC in Fremont at 10:30 on a Monday night. The table is off balance and wobbles as my left elbow leans on it to dig my fork into a huge piece of vegan, wheat-free carrot cake. I’m looking out the floor-to-ceiling window thinking to myself, “I wish the world were a safer place.” In that thought I am only thinking about me. In that moment I am only wishing the world were a safer place so that I could go for a walk outside at night and not worry about being followed or harassed or raped or molested. I’m thinking of no one else. I want to be alone right now. I want to walk outside right now.
So since the world is not a safe place, I have to go with “Plan B for Restlessness.” There is too great of a possibility that “Plan A for Restlessness” will prove harmful to my well-being. So I swallow the last bite of carrot cake (which is largely white, sugar-filled, vegan frosting) and turn my phone on silent. Plan B consists of walking up and down the aisles of PCC and reading the ingredients and nutritional facts of any item that catches my eye. Anything labeled “wheat-free” or “vegan” or “dairy-free” is sure to receive at least five seconds of my devoted attention. There’s something about being surrounded by foods that don’t make you feel like shit. It’s both comforting and encouraging. It makes me feel like there’s someone on my side—someone who understands.
It’s quite amazing how a grocery store has become a sanctuary.

The Desperation of the Faithful

When will You come through?
And do that which You said You'd do?
For thousands of years
We've been waiting for You--
And I'm weary of waiting.

There are flowers blooming
Out of concrete boxes.
And no one's welcome
In their neighbors' houses.
I thought by now
We'd have stopped waving crosses.
No one knows who You are.

What more do You expect us to do?
Some get along fine without You.
But those who seek are lied to.
And I'm tired of watching them die.

You scolded us for worrying
About what we would eat.
But they haven't seen
More than bread in a week.
Her baby died
Because there was no water to drink.
When will You come through?

~Anne-Marie written around 6 pm on 9/5/07 sitting outside of
Revolutions Coffee in Greenlake