I Think You Already Know

I Think You Already Know

I think you already know by now how
our hearts are entwined. I think it is easy so see
the secrets we have not hidden, the scars we have not
covered in shame. But I want you to know, if you did not
know by now
that my heart is healed because of your love.
My anxious thoughts do not invade like they once have,
my depression occasionally paints it dark, but then I
remember
the way you have taken me by the hand and walked me
back into the light.

You have let me cry when crying seemed unreasonable,
you have made me laugh on days I would rather pout,
you have touched my face with your hands and I cannot
draw back.
I would never draw back.
There is so much love in that touch, in the warmth of
your fingers on my face, that I breathe more slowly and
find the place of grace you have created for me.

I don’t know how all this works, I do not understand eternity.
But one thing I think I know, our hearts were born this way,
our souls were dancing together, interlaced and finding
infinite positions to touch each other with such joy,
such passion, such joy, and such love. We usually know it without
saying a word.

I would do anything for you. You have done everything for me.
I would end the nights of frightening thoughts, I would kiss your
lips with loving warmth, I would hold you close when the
words from outside your mind demean you in acrid proclamations.
I would heal every bruise, every heartache, every undeserved
lashing upon your heart that you never deserved.

Oh, my soul, I cannot describe how you have brought me to this
healing. I only hope you know, my dearest of dear, that I will never
stop loving you, never stop holding you, never stop hoping for your
hand in mind as our hearts wrap around each other even though miles apart.

Stretching

Stretching

(“He (Jesus) said this to stretch Philip’s faith. He already knew what he was going to do.” John 6:6)

Everyone thought they knew, and they threw their opinions down like
challenges into the sand. The Messiah One has spoken to me, it seems,
so clearly,
that nearly everyone else should have heard to too.
The Master’s Plan is easy to understand, consult me first, I make it
clear to you.
My answers are quick, shooting off my tongue like bottle rockets
on Independence shortly after dawn. I’ll tell you who to vote for,
I’ll even take a photo of my ballot in the booth
and
splash on my social pages with comments neatly deleted.
Follow my lead, because I always follow His, and quickly,
no time at all, it’s true, we’ll turn back to the 60s when
everyone carried guns in the trucks to school. (Did I forget the
rules about separate drinking fountains and seats on buses?)
Listen to me as I listen to Him, we’ll dial it back to the 50s then,
“Father Knew Best” and everything got left to Beaver. (Did I
overlook McCarthy’s great day, when playwrights, artists,
comedians and misfits were painted so red they overshadowed
the Midwestern sunsets?)

I’m sweating on the inside, I only admit it to the so few who see these words;
the farther back I go, 100 years? The more terror I behold. Japanese internment,
females barred from voting, and it took more than two Native Americans to equal
one single immigrant. You would think they could make a Native equal two
after half had died in wars, raids, and death marches marking their way with tears.

Jesus make me see what I hear so poorly. Paint the impossible clearly
so I cannot be glib with good stories that can suck the tears straight out of
unsuspecting eyes,
but have little truth, little hope, and no facts at all behind them.

Jesus make me feel the burning in the throats of those who have cried
far too long over judgment days come far too early.
Jesus make me feel the rumbling doubling over inside the guts of
the tiny ones whose food comes and goes like autumn’s cold wind.
Jesus make me stop…

Make me stop.