Yeses

Yeses

(“For Jesus Christ, the Son of God…is not one who is ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ On the contrary, he is God's ‘Yes’”. 2 Corinthians; 1:19)

The hours passed like low-lying fog;
the river was dressed in gray and white.
I don’t believe in your destructive God,
I don’t believe the fire is eternal,
I don’t believe the ice has melted.
I just believe the love that hastens to
lead me through the rain. I just believe
in yeses again and again.
I could stand with the sun melting the mist,
I could walk with the breeze kissing my cheek.
I could walk to your house
leaving my house for the afternoon.

We could talk all afternoon if you want to.
We could paint a dozen sunsets before dusk.
We could sink all the vessels of doubt;
we could let all the anxiety out and
leave it on the uncompromising ground.
We could sit next to the river where the
fog is silently lifting.
We could walk there past the man
walking his dog,
the seagulls dropping baby clams on
the pavement,
the ducks huddled against the cold.

Why do we wait, you and I,
to live out loud? Why do we question
who we are when who we are
has never been uncertain?

Do you remember how we played for hours
afternoons after school? Do you remember
making kites from newspapers and clubhouses
from scrap lumber? Do you remember
who we were before everyone had an opinion
about our worth?

All I hear (or hope to hear) are yeses that sound
like your laughter from the sky. We have both
carried these backpacks of expectations far too long.
Today let us walk unladen like horses in the fields.