Thursday, February 02, 2012

wait (Isaiah 40:21-31)

they pull the curtains shut
around the bed
(so we can have “some peace
and quiet”)
and walk away softly
murmuring their expertise,
stick your head in
wearing that rainbow wig,
the big red nose that
HONKs when you push
those silly oversized
and, taking your seltzer bottle
filled from the river of life,
you squirt fear and worry (who
had plopped themselves down
in the bedside chairs) soaking
them until they run down
the hall, threatening to call
their lawyers;

finding our backs
up against the goal line,
wondering if we have any strength left
after being battered and
bruised by that team
filled with spots on the CT scan,
bank foreclosure notices,
another job application rejected,
that bully in the schoolyard.

when the ref blows the whistle
for the 2-minute warning,
you gather us around you
(Spirit going around to each
of us,
giving deep drinks of
and looking deep into our
you simply whisper,
‘have you not heard,
have you not known,
have you forgotten?’

(c) 2012 Thom M. Shuman