I Come to Campus

I come to campus,
not to work – I can do that at home.

I come to campus
to feel alive.
to see the energy of students, to remember
being one at that age.
to recall moments of the supernatural
and the existential
and pain and sadness, too.

I come to walk
the orderly patterns of brick pathways
among the trees of leaves
and of needles
and to watch the squirrels – hyped up
on junkfood remains,
darting among trees
and trashcans.

I come to campus for College Hall
to see its many gables peaking into blue skies,
the circular windows atop Magnuson Theatre, where once,
guns fired from soldiers in training.

I come to enter the Ad Building
to climb the granite steps and open
those thick, wooden doors and
to enter a sacred space of possibility.
To stare at the stairs
with their crimson velvet carpet and the
ornately carved wooden posts and rails.
To view the light subtly knocking on
the stained glass windows at the landing, and
to hear the hurried voices of students from yesteryear
on their way to classes.
I come to wonder with the thousands like them,
what does the world hold in store for me and where
do I belong.
I come to feel
at home
in the questioning of it all.

I come to campus to see St. Al’s,
to see the morning light reveal the
rose patterns on the windows facing south,
and steeples rising, holding high
the crosses of hope and love.

I come to campus
to embrace it all, to feel
alive, refreshed.

I come to campus to wander back to my car and find
 — again —
a parking ticket.

One thought on “I Come to Campus

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