Three WindowsPoetry — By Andrea Bass on October 6, 2012 at 12:00 pm
Upon blessed defeat
you enter in, a stranger,
invading my heart and making a home there.
Inside myself, I see a tiny house with dusty windows
and tinier drapes in a loud plaid.
You’re inside at the table
with the morning paper
waiting patiently for me to make a move.
As I try to live, you must wonder
how I never seem to notice when to quit.
You attempt repairs, but I always stop you
since tearing down requires so much work.
Still you stay, though sometimes I’m convinced
your bags are packed and your hat’s in hand.
You are not a guest, but are forever
a part of me and move through me like blood.
When I’m content to live just half a life,
I can always hear you say it when it’s quiet:
“You were made for more than this
so let me help you come alive.”
I have seen your face on canvas, usually white
and framed by long brown hair,
wavy and flowing past your shoulders.
You always have a smile
and kindness in your eyes,
but I wonder why I never see your pain.
Surely you suffered
as you marveled at your skin
and knew someday you’d feel it tear and bleed.
But instead of tragedy, we see children at your side
or hear stories being told
or watch your calloused fingers draw in dirt.
We see the side of you that helps our unbelief.
And on the crucifix,
you hang so silently and clean.
But we need your blood,
and also need your screams so that we know
we’re not alone in feeling lost,
like a stranger in a world we’re told is home.
It’s as if there are two of you:
the one who drowned the world
and the one who loves us all.
It’s hard to see you both exist at once.
To live in grace means living unafraid,
but I am quivering quite often,
fearing who I might become
if I ignore the shoulds and oughts.
What was meant to be your story
has turned into my own,
proving how entwined I have become
with a Being I can’t hold
in my hands or contain
inside some answers.
But know that if I could, I’d grip the truth
Though I long for black and white,
I often watch the sky
for the colors of yet another rainbow.