Luke 15

Knuckling hosannahs
from the sockets of my eyes.
The back of my hand is wet
with illness, dry with winter.
Kicked off my blankets, uncovered,
the shivering rise and fall
of my chest confesses the chill,
the hardness of the blood beneath.
Take me under my trembling
arms, lift me onto your bent
shoulders. Let me join the rest,
where all is recovered.

Day 5: Morning (2)

Romans 8

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Not the yellow of cigarettes
on your hands, nor the smell
left on patchwork couches.
Not the despair that lurks in
frazzled voices, caffeine eyes,
and seeps forth from every
sagging shag-carpeted corner.
Not your excommunicated past,
nor mistakes that made them
lay hands on your head, shake
theirs lowly and in self proclaimed
holiness send you away.
Not your daughters left in
Lafayette, not yet able to deal
with the dreadful understanding.
Not the unpaid bills, the
snow that sweeps in underneath
a battered doorway, nor the
tattered heater that fails to heat.
No, shambles have not the last word.
Instead, it is the circle
of semi-strangers, stomping
the snow off their boots, tossing
their coats on the plaid couches,
taking a knee with hands grasping
the tiny shoots of the shag.
You will never be separated from
the true last word, love.

Day 5: Morning

Romans 8

"Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory..."

An acrylic nail sketches out my tension
between my waxed eyebrows, powder tapped temple
the place now traced with my worry. Will he
storm backstage and give me another dressing down?

Under the lights of the filtered cylinders, i am hiding
but i am comfortable there. My fear and my pulse race when
the applause is at my back, the curtains are pulled back
and he is standing arms crossed and forehead creased.

He speaks very differently than i hear, words
wrapped in makeup of love and grace. When i imagine his
face, anger like lightning streaks from the spots
where softer tears should fall like rain. But candidly,

i've never actually seen him. Earnestly i strive to play
my part for his praise, but unlike on stage my real life character
seems a fake. Bit parts for joy, but mostly i am cast in shame.
The spotlights frame my first entrance, the auditorium

is wide and expansive. i can't see the back, like entering
my parents closet as a wide eyed child. It is enticing me
into hiding, escaping down the front of the scene,
into the crowd that is clapping aloud, just to not face him.

As i leap into the arms of applauding audience, i glance into
the depths. His eyes are not glaring, his fists are not clenched,
he is not back there. But among the ticketed, i see he leans back
illuminated by the exit sign. He is here among us, and he smiles.

Day 66: Morning

Psalm 131

At the end of this day,
i will lean back on Your breast;
and i will rest. Father, i will not

ponder politic or purpose,
but my fingertips will rise and fall
like gentle breaths, softly

across Your bearded countenance.
i will bury bloodshot eyes,
rubbed red, raw, and stressed,

into the crook of Your neck.
i will run grasping hands,
opening and closing in pursuit

of affection, through the lightest
locks that fall from Your hushed head.
i will lay down in that bed

and neither toss nor turn,
as You lay a blanket over me,
renewing me with sleep.

Day 5: Morning

Psalms 9 & 10

i could say i love You,
but that is hardly specific.
O expectant One of immensity,
You are the completeness of love...

You are the intimacy of tracing
unintelligible love letters on my wife's back.
You are words that hold my head when
tears threaten to drag it down to my hands.

You are the joy in the giving, the fulfillment
of silence, the euphoria in the erasure of need.
Erasure so complete,
even the memory of need has left me.

So love is the word i use when i'm out of words,
when i look upon Your fairness

and am found distracted,
what did i ask for last week?

Ah, was it peace? For in the presence
of this present prayer, i could say i feel at peace.