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Sunday

Rent's Due

I sometimes feel
Like an empty container
With nothing to pour.

And when this happens
My life feels like pants
That are ten sizes too big
And I am awkward and
Stumbling

Like if a child dressed up
In Daddy’s clothes
And you told him
In all seriousness
To get a job and pay rent.

And rent’s due
And here I am
5 years old
And bone dry
Swimming in pants
I can’t even walk in.

20 page paper due
And I don’t even speak
English.

Dance recital
And both legs
Are broke.

You know the feeling?

That’s a hard one for me.
Being thin air. Being dust.
When someone spills their
Guts to me about their pain
And problems

And my choice in that moment
Is to either say something trite
And empty as a paper bag
Rolling down the street,

Or say nothing at all.

You know the feeling?

And thank God for emptiness
And for inadequacy; For
Rent due that exceeds
What I have in my
Checking account.

Thank God for demands
That go above my paygrade.

Because empty
Means there’s such a thing
As full.

Lack means
There’s such a thing
As abundance.

Creation means there’s
Such a thing
As a Creator.

And grief means
There’s such a thing
As joy.

You leverage
My lips with the crowbar
Of pain, like a carjack
Cranking open my jaws
Inch by grunting inch,

So that you might fill
My mouth with Your praise.


And I am convinced
That you, the voice
Of the Wind, the beautiful
Music of my heart,
The author of my
Heartbeat,

I am convinced that you
Are only Good. And
Only Love, no matter
What they say.

And you speak
Me large enough,
You tell me like a story
Too good to be true.

And I learn what it means
To call out to Daddy
For help, and the joy
Of You is this:

Instead of storming in
To my rescue through
Some outer door,

You burst through
The doors of my own heart

You bloom forth.
From inside me, and outward

Instead of giving me flowers
You make me to blossom.

Instead of a spectator,
I get to be a partaker.

Emmanuel:

You live right
Through me.

Live right through me.

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