Why Do You Ask?

Why Do You Ask?

(“I will strengthen them in the Lord, in whose name they will walk—oracle of the Lord.” Zechariah 10:12)

I’ve been studied like an lab specimen,
investigated like a criminal even after I served my time.
I’ve been cross-examined and dissected,
my mind on the lab bench, my faith in the witness stand,
and it left my head a hoary white.

Private. You have forced me into hiding.
Sealed shut. You have forced my measured words.
What am I doing?

Why do you ask?

Do you really want to see me? Or write a paper on your
findings, describe my disease? 

What am I doing? (The question that once was
an invitation to tennis, coffee, or a walk in the park.)

Not much, what are you doing?

Baited. I believed your promise of trust.
Ensnared. My hopes were vapors and rust.

Oh, I’ve committed the crimes. I’ve crossed the lines,
dotted the t’s and tossed the i’s into word salads I hoped
they would believe. I toed the line until the friendlies
kicked the chalk away. I became an enemy, how much more
now
when I refuse to believe what they insist they see?

What am I doing?

Is it your business?

(I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I’m tired of hearing it
like a recording,
but never saying it out loud. I’m sorry, but you’re anger
was unrestrained,
while I tried to train myself to take it like a man,
trust the god you manufactured,
quietly hold it all inside,
act the penitent, the weeping out loud
that marked how truly god must be dealing with that man.)

What am I doing?

I know why you ask. I’ll tell you. You have destroyed me
with your questions. I am worn out from the poking around
my body, my mind and

my life.

So, if I do not answer, now you know why. I will find a cave
where no one can enter and where I can cry without it meaning
anything more than I am
a man in pain.

I’ve shared my truth; once, twice. And instantly the angels sang,
the clouds lifted, the songs began.
But within days every move I made was measured by
the truth I had opened so hopefully.

So, if I do not answer, now you know why. There is no more
room inside
to let another set of eyes define me.