I Would be Your Shade Tree

I Would be Your Shade Tree

(“Let my soul be at rest again, for the Lord has been good to me.” Psalm 116:7)

You won’t chastise me for my complaint, will you?
Do I come across as needy?
Sometimes I am. I’ve also been accused of impiety.
The steel fingers have poked my mind
for nearly a decade and a half,
I do not mind my occasional breakdowns.
I would attend your crying fit; I’ve seen the playgrounds
where skinned knees and pointed fingers meet.

I would take you to the river,
I would become your constant shade tree,
I would be the silence in your agony,
I would bring you wine mixed with my own tears,
a long pour sparing nothing.
I would bring you my eyes which have seen the same
pain and brittle dehydrating while others play flag
football
in the sun.

You won’t run away from me for my sadness, will you?
Do I come across as morose?
Often I am. I’ve been accused of undiagnosed illnesses
unmindful of the offered cures.
Purely because I know how the light filters through
pulled curtains
when the late summer sun taunts a day’s immobility,
I wait in the darkness with you, sit in the sadness
and view your soul as more lovely than my own.

I would sing the song we wrote,
I would relive the times we walked on slippery hills
just after the first rain.
I would bring the bread you baked while you pieced
together the insanity of darkness again.
I would bring you my hands which have held other
hands
just as curled as your own.
I would let my pain be the beginning of two souls
finding rest simply from
being seen.