The Morning Broke Loudly

The Morning Broke Loudly

(“They are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 3:24)

I know the morning broke loudly across your consciousness,
I know the outcome pushed upon your chest like a trunk of pennies.
You expected better,
you hoped for something different than the same lines to the
same songs
over and over again.
I know you wanted to wake up this morning like summer.
I know you wanted to have a drink with your friends and celebrate.
You dreamed of so much better,
you yearned for the very thing that would give new words to the
same old songs
you enjoyed when you were young.

But the sun broke through the gray today,
the dogs chased each other and played in the field.
The promise felt like a fainting scarecrow,
I know,
I felt the fatigue too, sucking the last drop
of enthusiasm from the day.
But the sun still shone like summer,
the trees were letting go all around me
creating a carpet of seeds and leaves, heart-shaped leaves,
and the breaths we take are as full as they were
yesterday at this time.

I know the breezes are cooler this time of year,
I know the rain sometimes announces itself before the deluge.
You expected rainbows,
you hoped for the injustice in the world would never
consume the light you felt in your soul. So,
rainbow or no,
you knew the day would be hard. You knew the canyon
was narrow and shafts of light briefly played upon your brow.

I know you wanted to see this day brighter,
I know you wanted to dance like a playful fawn.
Instead you walked over the dew-drenched yard,
took the letters out of the mailbox
and went back indoors, sat on the couch and wondered
what would come of all of this.

Exit Stage Left

Exit Stage Left

(“Jesus answered, ‘I do not have a demon, but I honor my Father, and you dishonor me.’” John 8:49)

You played it deadpan
and we laughed. That was what
you expected.

You took a pratfall;
fell at the heroine’s feet.
And we were silent. It looked too much like
a stumble.

Half of us left the theater and loved the way
the
entire scene crumbled upon our departure.

We knew the lines by heart, and
you spoke a foreign language. We memorized
the entire script, and
you broke it into disconnected sketches.

Why would you leave it to us to
assemble the pieces? The brochure promised
our money’s worth. And our money was worth
less than we hoped for.

Exit stage left. Curtain drawn. Blackout stage right.
The audience for the Sunday matinee were queued
outside and interviewed us as we left.

We did not understand you, so we followed our own
feet to the back of the line.