Carry
My ‘patient’ dwells
fair distance from market
‘Carry’ begins to take on
earthbound weight.
Still, we limp along
laughing and stumbling –
bumbling idiots?
“Do you suppose Jesus will be long gone
by the time we appear?”
Next bend in the road
sees sunlight:
‘Scuse me, Ma’am
let me take that pallet for you—”
Brawny attitude interrupts my clumsiness.
A passerby offers fresh water
to dehydrated stupor—
our rucksack is long empty.
“Are we there yet?”
I can hear the thunder of running footsteps
but the murmur of engaged voices
roars near as loud.
The foot cannot say to the hand…
I don’t need you.
We are all interconnected here
I need you
Now my heartbeat can rest.
jfig 4/2020
This poem was inspired by conversations with our twenty-somethings midst the Covid 19 outbreak. I caught a glimpse of what is to come in the handing-off of the torch. I dedicate this poem to my redneck brother (the brawny voiceover) and my servant leader SIL, Cheryl; who in very different ways, do a lot of carrying.
‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me. Matthew 25:37b-40
Roasted Words 