The Thread

Jesus is the thread I cling to and follow,
winding through the jungle and
the rocky bare places
and the pain and the confusion.
The pain in my gut — familiar
anxiety, sadness, grief, fear –
winds through my life from childhood.
He came alongside thirty years ago
and we wind along together and he’s the light.
He holds the thread of my life with me
and he’s the thread that I cling to
to get me out of this damned forest
and out of the clutches
of the damned witches
who try to catch and eat me.
The thread is golden now,
I think leading out to broader spaces
It has gone through broader spaces before
but I was hooded and hunched
and couldn’t see.
I stand upright.
I see more now.
We trot along, he and I,
he pointing out stuff to me,
me elbowing him to look
at that and look at this
and wait, stop, oh, there’s a bee and
look at the wee snake.
I elbow him.
Bless it please, Lord, right now
right now, are you paying attention?
And then we go on
me dragging and nagging
Did you see?
Did you bless it?
Huh? Will you keep on blessing it?
And he laughs and pulls my hand.
We hold that thread and keep going.

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