there are reasons.

There are reasons I am well,
and they are
my demons now have names,
and they do my bidding for me–
no more bidding of me.
They stop by–a day or two here, there,
but they do not feel any welcome
at my heart(h).
I do not light the fire for them when they knock.

There are reasons I am afraid,
and they are
sometimes in the quiet, moments
there is a vice around my chest,
and the breath in my lungs is fire and ice–
not air–
and I am suddenly stricken with sickness
for the way that living not only drains
but darkly, starkly
demands, snatches
the life out of me.

There are reasons that I am disappointed,
and they are
I am here,
yet I want to be there,
and when I was told,
You’ll do great things when you’re older,
I took older for now.
If this is great, I must reach for grand,
or pray that older is a ways off.

There are reasons I am happy,
and they are
written love notes in pencil,
silly sweet scribblings
of second graders
hanging on my fridge
next to Christmas cards–what a thought!
my name,
written on envelopes and their hearts.

There are reasons I am sad,
and they are
my father is older than he is,
and my mother, too,
and I grieve
that the good in their hearts
is immaterial
to this material world that deals
only in punches and
kicks while they’re
down. We ask
where is God in this pain, and
where are His guardians of the downtrodden?
Is this the Father’s healing of His land,
justly and in love?

But there are reasons I am blessed,
and they are
I wake in the morning with grace,
which is strength for the day,
and then some,
and with movement comes grace,
progress, the uphill climbing
made up of foot put in front of other foot
again and again;
with each grimace,

There are reasons I am here,
and they are–

well, I am here, and that is reason enough.


2 thoughts on “there are reasons.

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