An Open Window
(“But you, why do you judge your brother
or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all
stand before the judgment seat of God.” Romans 14:10)
My soul was an open window but you
persisted in pounding on the door.
You talked like you knew everything I’ve owned,
you thought I was hiding from you.
Once you saw the wounds but named them
inadequacies. There were shortages to be
sure, but not because I ignored them.
My soul was drafty until I found
the touch
of healing in the person who looked deeply
and refused to walk away.
The scars are still warm from the fever they felt,
and grew hotter the more exposed to the fiery gaze
that read them like tea leaves cursing my weak efforts
to escape,
the constant stare that sought to make me more aware
of the sighs heaped upon the weakest places in me.
I’ll keep a warm corner ready for you,
I’ll light a fire and put on the coffee.
I’ll set a place for you even though you gave
so little space for me.
And if you feel exposed, I will only pass you
the cream and sugar, put another log on the fire,
and ask if you would like to stay just a little longer
into the early evening of the day.
