My brothers and I
used to scrap all over our backyard
when we had tired of playing Lord of the Rings,
shoving and dodging blows
just short of fists –
rough and tumble,
box and be boxed
and rejoice in a bloodied nose.
But adults are wearier than children.
We laugh at hope
In the same way Sarah laughed
At the promise of a great nation
and a son.
I am not all
faults and flaws,
Though that lie knocks me back in the dust,
this time with a fist
and no delight,
because that kinda phrase
knocks all your courage outta you
along with your teeth
and you crash on the ground
begging for blessings from anyone you see.
Favors favors favors,
wrestled for up and down the line
until the last player puts your hip
out of socket
and puts a stop
to you –
You have nowhere to run,
Only staring a Moment down,
with no courtesy beyond apparent circumstance
battered and bloodied and demanding a name of someone so vast
& too gracious to show His face –
That Ageless Moment blesses me,
pulling me out of the dust, birth to now,
and the cracks in my soul
that I shook my fists over,
fought over in a hundred fights
are being filled in with stardust –
a thousand kept promises,
here and coming:
Word too true to be broken,
Polishing the edges of my soul
and cradling me when sirens scream
in my head
or my feet itch to be made well.
I have striven with God,
pushed back against His barrel chest,
to make Him comprehensible,
But God strives,
His name running to the corners of the earth like
and His breath is spinning the planet around as He ordained it.
He strives –
He sent Sarah & Abraham a son
and a nation of teeming stars to follow
And He sent another Son to follow them.
He shows the face of His goodness
in a thousand upon thousand mercies –
the laughter of others // a roof over my head // a boyfriend come back // the way the sun sets anew every night // color // tight hugs // words that make my cry // faithfulness
so much faithfulness.
this weariness will be well.
all things made well