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.