Carry Me

Carry Me

(“Blessed be the Lord—day after day he carries us along.” Psalm 68:19 [The Message]) 

Spared the paper illusions, I moved on with the day.
The sky fell upon us like a dust devil bringing the
clouds’ perfume to inches from our reach. Though it
had never happened this way
since time began,
we were not frightened. We knew the universe is chunkier
than thin papyrus or tomato soup.
On the average every day opens like an unwrapped gift
left inside the living room window.
But the box is heavier than I’m willing to admit.
The corners are taped so carefully it takes until
well in the afternoon to
open it. By that time, I’ve used up my portion and
retire to wonder why some promises have a half-life
of hello and goodbye. Lately I simply wander
the same path up the hill toward the woods and
back home to the empty doorway. This is not a
complaint.
Just the words of uninvited pain and wordless days.

So

Carry me.

By the way,
I don’t blame anyone. I’ve been paper-thin in
my day too. I’ve lost my favorite hat to the desert wind.
I’ve sighed too many names. I’ve left too many guessing
what my words would be. And so I hear you say

Carry me.

I’ve always taken friendships too seriously. And
duties have frightened me away from extended afternoons
in simple laziness. We should have shared more beers.
Watched more baseball. Laughed at how silly all our
doctrine became
once people decided they were experts
about God.

We all just need a day or two to be
carried away.