More Time on the Ground

More Time on the Ground

(“Or you think nothing of the riches of his goodness, patience, and longsuffering? And remember not how it is that the kindness of God leads you to repentance?” Romans 2:4)

Take it like a man; as if he can.
Splayed out like a mud pie after rain
he begins his story with dripping explanation.

It was all I could do to wipe the darkness away.

They made their plans to make him strong.
They knew what was wrong and why, then
interpreted
his every moved like inspectors with magnifying glasses,
never seeing both of his eyes crying at the same time.
He offered few excuses.

Time has been longer and steeper than I planned.

Hunt like us, shoot like us, shout like us, grunt like us;
as if he was made that way.
He loved numbers as much as they did, but loved the
mountains more.

There was more stumbling than I wanted; more time on the ground.

They gave him chance after chance, enhanced their techniques
to pull all the darkness out of the man. They stood him up white-
faced
and patted him down in public.

There was more sin than you knew, but I sinned less than you thought.

Once he went years without a phone call, without a smile or the
embrace of men. Twice he wished it would never happen again.
And crowds froze him to the spot while he scourged the scars
that remained and reminded him why he deserved
to be alone.

Some days I checked the mail more than once.

His heart had ached from adolescence. He longed for the
glance, the gaze, that welcomes everything. And sometimes
he saw it when it wasn’t there. And sometimes, blinded by the sting,
he would not partake of the table offered him.

Do you know something about me that will make you turn away?

All he wants is to be held by love, like tea in a prewarmed cup.