repose, transpose
After the homewreck of my ship
fatigued to the marrow
I let time stand still around me
learning the new music of wind through cornstalks
and the bone-deep consolation of yellowed motel-room sheets
I wondered about broken commitments,
the weakness of the flesh,
honor.. that underrated mainstay,
and the curious outworking of sovereignty
at the point where courage fails
and once days of sleep and solitude
had re-rendered me human,
I took hold of the Lord by inquiry.
Wasn’t it Your hand, that carried me
with magnanimity to this precipice?
How then am I now found,
leveled with bedrock?
From here it looks almost
like randomness is at the helm
and not You.
I know the Father to spoonfeed glory to his children,
little bites,
a morsel of revelation at a time,
to savor and chew.
His answers to my queries,
have been arriving in good order,
as with the wisdom of infinity
He wrings waterfalls of usefulness
from my apparent loss.
After the death of my brother,
I texted my sister,
Yes, the news has reached me,
But give me some long hours
to drink expensive coffee—
then we’ll think
what we’ll do next.
I shopped for lettuces
small talked with the grocer
scrambled some eggs
while from Malden, Brighton and Frankfurt outposts,
friends sprinted to the front lines in prayer,
to give hell to Hell itself.
I didn’t twist the shower faucet,
only knelt down, and interrupted God; no hello;
Just tell me…
is he with you?
Marcy would call weeks later,
thanking God for faithful comfort,
and for the deeper way I would know him
in my new experience of loss
But those first days, I found it so strange
to be denied a blunt reply;
the difference, I thought,
between my being comforted, and crestfallen.
God didn’t race to answer,
but held me, suspended,
in lament
lest I miss knowing his heart towards death;
miss understanding, how wholly he hates it.
No cheat code could skip me past, no detour route me round, no poetry rebrand
how death is nothing near God’s plan;
and his grief dwarfs ours;
and he appoints a time to mourn.
But bit by bit,
the Lord did pull back the curtains of confusion,
giving time for my bleary eyes
to adjust to brilliant light.
By spoonfuls of remembrance,
and refortifications of the words of life
stored up in me,
a banquet table of Yes, a thousand times yes! was spread,
at which my heart may ever feast.
He has made this assurance mine to hold:
nothing done in love will he waste;
though best intentions and bodies be laid low.
every promise of the Lord will stand;
and on the Bedrock that is Christ, forever, so do we.
