I’m standing in the back unsteady,
not understanding Your story about good seed
fields with soil rich and deep,
enemies in the night that plant weeds,
which burn in bundles while reaping the wheat.
Later I ask, which makes You laugh
but it’s laughter of a patient kind,
for You take the time to tell me
You’re the sower, the field the world,
the seeds You plant, your people, me,
among the weeds, the devil’s lies, I’ll grow,
His own, until the end of time
while evil dies in flames, we’ll shine together,
and Peter, You say, *blessed are your questioning ears,
for you hear what prophets prayed to hear,
the mysteries they strained for years
to see before your eyes.

I’m living insufficiently,
yet I’m loved by One who
knows what I don’t know,
and sees what I don’t see—
my life in context of forever,
today in view of infinity.

Storming loud, the wind drowns out my gasp
when the spray hits my face,
I walk on concrete,
the roar of the waves silencing all other thought in my head
as I realize I am afraid of suddenness I can’t predict,
the crash of cold water coming
when I don’t know when.

And then, I laugh at fear—
feeling exhilarated in the face of the oncoming
for just as I know I am not unshakable,
I know the Ground I stand on is,
and if the rush of wind and water shocks me, icy,
I will not be swallowed but supported.

So open wide with my arms and heart and soul,
I turn my face to the waves, waiting,
and when the water finally hits me, I live.

There is no road until I start walking.
I put my foot down, the bricks fall under my feet,
paving the way as I need it, but not before.

Years, listening to your lies and
writing sad odes, sorry metaphors about worthlessness,
all the reasons, various, numerous, for my loneliness,
figure flawed, wits wanting, a person less than perfect,
me, cast in the role of defective, undesirable.
I believed you.

This morning, you’re at it again,
telling me I can’t have this, the sum of my hopes:
a mountain too tall and I, too small, can’t overcome it.
a feat too mighty, and I, too weak, can’t accomplish it
a vision so beautiful, and I, so ugly, can’t attain it.
In all of this, you’re right.

Or would be, if I wasn’t part of a Whole
who’s height can’t be measured,
who’s mightiness surpasses strength,
who’s beauty a sunrise can’t match.
All this and more is mine in Him
so I stand, therefore,
to tell you I will drink none of your poison today,
to say sorry, sir,
the sum of my hopes cannot be shaken
by the sum of the fears you fling in my face.