Like a Reborn Friend

Like a Reborn Friend

(“Even though you meant harm to me, God meant it for good” Genesis 50:20a)

If you knew my story you might love me less.
I know my story better than any and I love me more
than I did when I hid it from you.

I don’t mind if you see the unwashed stains;
I don’t mind showing them to you again.

But please don’t bring your eraser; just embrace me
as I am.

The clouds have lifted, and all seems clear from the
hill,
in the light,
with the weight removed. I can think of nothing to say
every time my shame announces itself.
What do you know? What have you discovered?
Has someone told you their truth about me?

But someone needed to forgive me,
someone needed to adopt my story from
beginning to end. Someone needed to love me
like a reborn friend. But no one knew the
scenes I left out,
the darkest sketches made on the stormiest of days.
I deleted the dialogue that damaged me,
I hushed the mediocrity that might change your
mind about me.

So, if I tell you all of it, If I measure it full and
circumference,
will you be uncomfortable; will you stand up and
walk away? Will you call me the next day and tell me
your nervous system is short-circuited like mine? Will you
expect me to stumble all over again?

Because I could; my story is full of u-turns in the
middle of a roundabout. I won’t promise the darkness is gone.
I won’t lie that everything is light.
I won’t insist you forgive me. I don’t have the foresight
to inherit your pardon. It’s taken me long enough to
pardon myself.

I know my story, in and through. I’ve lived it escaping
and debating my own propriety. I cannot forget the
minor key that intrudes at the point most high. But I
will loathe neither you nor me. I will value your company
like spring showers cleanse the dusty garden.