I Tried to Lasso the Wind

I Tried to Lasso the Wind

(“The wind blows wherever it wants to. You hear it, but you don’t know where it is coming from or where it is going. It is the same with everyone who is born from the Spirit.” John 3:8)

Yesterday I tried to lasso the wind,
it refused my invitation, ephemerally slipping loose
and, so softly I hardly knew it,
kissed my cheek with a whisper.
Yesterday I tried to catch my breath,
it was far behind me, hiding beneath the yellow brush blossoms
and evaporating into a field where rabbits play.
Yesterday I tried to dictate the Spirit,
she refused to obey me, cooly uncoiling her
love power so quietly my voice lost its authority.
She beckoned me to a place in the middle of the river
where the mainstreams flow. I decided to go,
having decoded her intention to vivify everything mortal
with eternal notions of change.  

You cannot control what you do not understand.
You cannot understand what you refuse to hear.
You cannot hear with your ears filled with orations.
You can only follow the glimmers that are so small
they reflect the hummingbirds’ wings, and fill the neighborhood
with songs so good that old men come to listen.
We learned to stop trying to capture the tunes that
came in the afternoons and only celebrate the reprieve
they brought from working with sweat on our furrowed brows.

I Was Glad I Stayed

 I Was Glad I Stayed

(“In the middle of the night someone yelled out, ‘He’s here! The bridegroom’s here! Go out and greet him!’” Matthew 25:6)

 

How foolish I was, my light began to dim. The hour grew near
for the wedding to begin, and I needed somewhere to charge up
again.

Should I leave to find more energy, or stay with the party to
greet the groom? Would he face me down, disappointed that my
batteries nearly died? Or would he smile that I stayed, that I
waited to see if he would be happy with me.

I admit, I was so anxious to arrive I did not think through all
the possibilities. Half the party thought ahead and brought extra
lights in case theirs faded like mine. I had hoped to borrow
an extra, but they looked at me like I was a fool, an idiot,
an infidel,
and told me to go to the store in town; after midnight; through
the alleys; to try to buy more shine. Some of my friends did and
I’m afraid the store was closed, or they paid double, or froze
in their tracks to be out so late in that part of town.

But the groom was already late (at least as we perceived it)
and I wanted to wait; I wanted to take my chances; I wanted to
see him in the first morning’s light.

Would he reject me if there was mud on my freshly shined shoes?
Would he turn away because my tie was askew?
Would he choose someone to take my place who had better sense,
who was more like the friends who splurged on batteries?

But as he walked into the room there was more light than
any of us needed. Regal, he swept us up in his robes.
Holy, he burned our hearts with love.
Humble, he slowly took our hands, gazed at us like peers,
cheered us like children.

And, though my light had failed, I was glad I stayed, bathed
at last in the cosmic romance of redemption.