Pensive Windows

 

Pensive Windows

(“He and everyone in his home were devout and respected God. Cornelius gave many gifts to poor Jewish people and always prayed to God.” Acts 10:2)

Teach me to live with nuance and ambiguity,
deliver me from the sin of certainty.
I rehearsed my script, made all the pieces fit,
knew who was cold, guessed who was hot,
discerned who was in, assumed who was not,
and loved the sinner and not the sin
which never made sense to the to the hordes
that lived outside my redline boundaries.

Teach me to live between the clouds and the storm,
release me from the vows I have sworn
that ignore the same flesh and bone who
walk in parks,
laugh at splashed sunlight,
cry when time has deleted their first love or child,
pray with the poor,
move next door to the homeless children
who never knew the names of the preachers up the road.

Let the ink run on the page, let the colors swirl like uncaged
cardinals and bluejays.

Teach me to hear between hymns and tragedies,
deliver me from the sin of duality.
A little gentler and a lot less brutal,
let the total view from the back seat of the universe
ignite my imagination. The rain that falls on my apples
and walnuts
waters the hedges and thistles. And the rivers wash
the footprints of history to the sea.
Finally.