Don’t you tell me
everything is going to be okay,
that silver slivers line the sky behind those brooding clouds.
Are your eyes better than mine?
Can you see past the present?
Wait, that’s right.
Your special knowledge grants you sight.
Let me clarify:
We are not thriving in the Garden,
we are dying in the desert.
We cannot reverse the plummeting,
we cannot catch ourselves.
Let me be discouraged.
I am one in need, to feel in my viscera
the disconnect, the anger, the problem,
so I can grow to know it, this Nineveh,
holding it in my hands and rolling it around my tongue.
Let me breath it back and swallow it up in my lungs.
Don’t you see?
Sweeping it behind the bright side
only conceals it!
It still exists.
Do you think, somehow, that’s final?
I’ve seen enough to know it’s not,
that left there, it will only rot.
I can feel pain.
By grace I know
that something is wrong.
In Christ is hope not only of release and tearless eye,
but also that He’ll catch and hold us here beneath the sky.