Wasn’t it Monday just last week?
Didn’t I wake with no words to speak?
No thoughts of the morrow to say,
Just breathing in today.
Some prayers were said as I sat,
For children and wife and all that.
An amen was uttered as I walked away
Saying this is the day, this is the day.
And the rain falls one drop at a time,
All at once.
Its voice collected from the spaces between
The pear shaped missiles.
Variations of tone, from guttural to whispers
Of moisture wending.
Thank You for speaking this way
When Ecclesiastes became my umbrella
Under the sun.
Unfold my arms,
Relax these tight shoulders.
Come, this wide-eyed morning
And lay these hesitancies on the dew.
Soak them mercifully, and grace
These fists in their clenched resistance.
Palms up, lifeline exposed
In vulnerable sweat.
Break upon my heart
Like the broken light,
Shards all around.
Take us to the safe places,
not free of danger necessarily,
but void of triggers…
those spaces where scabs
fall off, not scrape off.
Show us how to play,
how to get absorbed
like a child on the floor,
Let us not worry about
how we’re gonna get up.
Help us to trust again,
fearless of reaction,
boundless in hope.
For a long moment
let us reach You.