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Rendition
I forget how to begin, Lord. Wait for me. It’ll take a minute To find my way from here To somewhere else. I’ve been digging ditches all summer, Sweating through my graveclothes. I can feel the beat, beat, Beat of things going faster—my pulse, My pitted prayers, the waltzing clock. I’ve been patting my pockets since June, And I keep coming up short. I thought I was only busy, But I watched these holes getting deeper, And realized: one is as good as another. All day a question runs in my head: Will you meet me more than halfway, Or will you drag me off with the wicked? I can find their every shortfall in myself. I have taken my sin in sips, While I waited for time to eat away at my resolve. I have settled for less And insisted it was worth it. I have pressed my hands to the wall In the space between two trains And hoped my fleeting pleas would pass for prayer. You hold yourself silent, But I know you are there. You show yourself and dance away, You made your rumor run Under the wind, wild as wolves, Catching, coy, quicksilver— Purple in fingers picking blackberries, Gasping in the azaleas, Cascading in summer hollyhocks Grown head-high and higher. You are there In the throaty chuckle of ravens brooding Like a gang of black toads in the oak trees. You are there when the grace gathers Around the table at dinner, In the hallowed halls of the real world, Ready to be passed again from hand to hand In bits of bread and cups of wine. Lord, help me. Hear me. Gird yourself and guard me. Show up, my God, you plodder! I cannot give much more than this. If you are not my help, I have none. Shepherd, Carry me.
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