After the Hail Crashes

After the Hail Crashes

(“Then Jesus said to them, ‘I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?’” Luke 6:9)

Against all odds the desert birthed life into
the cacti that stored life when the sun dried out the
cracked soil with promises of nothing.
How hard should we work
when life is at risk? How far
should we walk
to find water for the tongues that
feel like sand?

We could never afford the time it took
to repopulate the unfortunate whittlings
that hung from the broken sky. We had
taken the day off, if anyone would believe that story.
We were faithful to set our feet in concrete
and refused to move when the clock marked its
clanging announcement that the day was off by
at least a hundred degrees.

Bring back the daylight;
banish the orders that keep everyone in the dark.
Watch the desert rose;
touch the barbs that keep you awake.

Sometimes the sun grazes the entire horizon
immediately after the hail crashes and bounces off
the sod still awakened. Sometimes the sun
hastens to melt the stones left behind.

It’s all measured on the average,
the mean between the two extremes.
Someone said that balance was the word,
but I think I’d rather be all in than
try to find the middle between up
and
down,
or silly and serious. Work if you want,
heal if you must,
hug without caution and love like
tomorrow is not promised.

Sanity demanding, I’ll be sitting outside your door
waiting for you to return home on a Saturday afternoon.