Upon Their Brightest Days

Upon Their Brightest Days

(“All Jerusalem should praise you, our Lord, when people from every nation meet to worship you.” Psalm 102:21)

I should be strong, less old, less likely to ache my way downstairs;
but it seems, I know not why, You, O Lord have made me old much
before my time.

My father slouched like an octogenarian before he reached 60,
and shuffled so much that sparks of static electricity constantly
tingled from his fingernails.

You, Lord, live forever, never a doubt in my mind. You are ageless,
from predawn to afterglow, over and under the bridges and tunnels
we use to connect yesterdays to today. You invented time before
time existed at all. You will never die, never having been born,
and will wrap time in a ribbon, intersecting every moment in
a beautiful bow at the end of days.

Please don’t cut my life in half, do not make me walk with a cane
or hold my head in agony over pain that will not escape. I do not
know
how to talk to you, though I
know
you will allow my cries, my fist in the air, the resounding of it
from skyhigh to pounding on my table. I do not know how to
make demands
on the Judge of All, the Writer of every Ordinance from sky
to canyon, desert to delta. Alpha to Omega, You include all
that there is, and my pain, my limp, my lately ailments must
be a portion of all You include.

You, Lord laid the foundation of the earth,
painted the vaulted ceiling of the sky.
In the beginning You started it all; Love laying brick like
a king building a castle for his princess.

But I still remain the same, with these ailments that nail me to my bed
until midafternoon,
the pangs that shoot through my head like a sniper laying the crosshairs
across my temples.
I only feel the hot lead and never hear the bang.

You, Lord, investigate this tragedy,
report back to me, if it is likely to
yield an answer that gives me back the half
that has been stolen from me.

Yet I know You can never change,
Yes I know you are always the same,
Each friend, each relative, every voice that cries
for You
whether pain or praise
finds You closer (at the end of the length You have measure)

Than they thought upon their brightest days.