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And This is Why I May Rejoice

Driving minivan

With crying baby

Bumping Christ-centered

Hip-Hop Poetry

I am tired of
Separation between
Self and sky.

I see mountains, dark faced
Rosy glow sinking between
Their shoulder blades, red-gold glory
A vibrant shout, fading down.

Only minutes left of this.

Stirs something in my heart
For an equally tiny moment
Like the head of a flower
Brushing your palm as you
Walk by.

I have been waiting to feel
something move down there.
In the dark silence. My heart like
Cavern walls, where there
Is no screaming away
The stillness. Unwelcome
Apathy thick as pitch.

I’m trying to be a receiver.
Walking around with hands cupped
Like a bowl in front of my chest
Waiting for rain. Longing like
Dry sticks I imagine would long
To bloom again. Waiting.

And I am tired of not being
That behind-the-mountain glow,
That back-home fireplace warmth
That halo of setting sun
Against the back of black knotty head.

Searching. Hands cupped and

Crying, yes, almost crying.
That good crying you do
At sunset, when maybe you think
You saw His face for just a second,
The corner of His smile. I love God
And miss Him when I can’t see Him
For a while.

So maybe this is movement.
Maybe not. Maybe more will come.
Maybe when I write my fingers
Will pour again.

Do whatever your Love wishes.
Jesus, I will sing your praises.
Even with lips and tongue of stone.

I take the baby out of the van
Car seat and all,
And walk inside King Soopers
For toilet paper and alfredo sauce.

When I come back out
The sun has set behind the mountain
And the colors have gone
As if they were never there.
Just lonely rock left behind.
Faceless and black.

But why should I mourn?
It’s not like the sun has died.
It’s still shining hard, somewhere.
Even when my eyes are too weak
To see.

And this is why I may rejoice.

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