May Have Forgotten

May Have Forgotten

(“Jesus said to them, ‘Why do you cowards have so little faith?’ Then he got up, gave an order to the wind and the sea, and the sea became very calm.” Matthew 8:26)

How can I explain why I fainted,
How can I tell you the pain and the distance
between faith and sorrow?

I no longer fear the waves, the rock cracking,
mud sliding, faces colliding with my next opinion.
I fear nothing, and by nothing I mean I fear the vacuum,
the void, the silence, the melodies destroyed by
the startled sound of crashing pans and pots. The
tunes take too long to pencil down. I need a rest,
a nap, I need to sleep, to grapple alone with the
hole so confined I barely turn with the moving sun.

How can I complain about the explanation;
trials come to strengthen resolve and power
me through the next temptation? Should I,
muscle bound by now, deserve at least a
reprieve from tears or groaning? And, if by grace you say it comes to me, then send the relief without my asking.

I might, reflexively admit, I’d rather fight at the front again
than be on this island of trauma. The friends who walk with me
do not call, they know the vibrations through the phone still
disturb the pulsing nerves that refuse synthesis or organic
prescription.

I hope, I have not forgotten Your name;
I pray, I do little else as the pressure encircles,
a vise radically squeezing the final virtue from out of me.

I dare think, I can never believe it though, that
You
may have forgotten mine. I pray, do not call me
coward,
when I rise to meet the enemy who stays awake all night long only to meet me for another round once the morning opens my eyes.