You Had Little Choice

You Had Little Choice

(“For this is the word of promise, “At this time I will come, and Sarah shall have a son.” Romans 9:9)

This cannot make up for the promises I made;
I always hope to be better, to play the scales more carefully,
to walk the log across the stream more cautiously.
I probably should have stood up for myself when
seated in front of a dozen accusers trying to get to
the bottom of my offense.
I never defended the charges, never insisted I was
innocent.
But I lived with a crowd of people pushing my pedigree
like they were judges waiting for my next indecent apology.

There is no one to blame but myself. My only wish would
have been for a phone call now and then, not to catch me
in a verbal twist of fate, but to prove there was grace when
I was convinced there was none.

Sometimes babies are born by accident; sometimes they
come like blurry little hailstorm. Some come right on time
and some drag their feet when entering this world.

Sometimes children hide in plain sight, thinking they
are invisible. Sometimes adults shroud their intentions thinking
their privilege projects their intentional interrogation that
sucks all the faith from the room.

You cannot stop the coming nativity,
you cannot prevent the child that is to come.
There is preventing the birth that accompanies
the dawn.

After the pledges come the completion.
The acceptance following the words pregnant
with promises. There are no more words to surround
your preoccupation with squeezing the souls of miscreants
like sweltering lemons in the sun.

You had little choice; we all know that. You had fewer
options than we understood. And yet, and yet,
even the sinners can be cured by a word, or maybe two,
about babies that carry on the unfinished consequences
created by God’s partnership with mere humans who,
surprise or not, trip themselves up, stubbing their toes
like toddlers learning to walk.