This, like so much of the poetry I’ve written over the past few months, was mostly instigated by COVID-19. How it overturned all our plans and separated us from people we love. But really it’s more concerned with fear–the way it’s so easy to be afraid of the very goodness of God that I say I trust.
The past year and a bit has hit all of us differently and in varying degrees. This is just me using poetry to wrestle with life and emotions I can’t really understand any other way. Praying it helps somebody else do the same.
what I remember most is the
prevalence of mercy,
what I hated to be grateful for.
few epiphanies, no perfect moments
(do those exist anymore?),
just a long twilight you realize
has been and will be with no escape.
always on the outside,
and it’s mercy ties you
to the mast.
and what I remember
is how the worlds keep on moving,
spring breaks into the madness.
cherry-blossom petals floating
into visions of losing,
violets blink into sunrises marking
off the days of dread,
mornings of optimism dead.
and still somehow the music,
somehow still the music played.
and what I will remember—oh,
oh we will all remember
the length of loneliness.
and how you said lean in,
that there’s a purpose in this place
I couldn’t see, we didn’t see,
and all we saw, we knew,
the fingertip of mercy breaking through.
let the Lord remember
I never dared to take that hand,
never wanted to take hold
of the scarred palm for fear
I would be led,
must follow in those steps.
and so I fell.
and I am still afraid
of where I’ll be if I let mercy lead,
afraid to walk through fire and water
and held only by that hand—
but I cannot let go.