Three words
Rarely spoken
Never heard
Important as
I love you
Just three words
Not written or recorded
Prayed or preached
But spoken face to face
Three syllables
Better than sex and candy
Fulfilling more than feeding five thousand
Laying down all shields and weapons
Making all things new
Just these three
Needed to be
Spoken and heard
Without pretense or bullshit
I was wrong.
There they were
Sandwiched between lined sheets of trees
Flattened like Crêpes
To preserve their wisdom
There they were
Sealed by thumbs
Pressed across the tops of five cent plastic bubbles
Preserved among the scribbles of ideas, nouns, and butter boxes
There they were
Two sweet chocolate doves of foil
With velvety aphorisms stamped
Under their flesh
One of the once-crumpled silvery sages spoke thus:
“Love is always the perfect gift”
You then replied on a napkin:
“Love means learning to like you.”
The second shiny sage opined:
“Warmth on the inside can melt cold on the outside.”
I then replied:
That explains the lack of warmth in your home.
They only learned to like you after you were gone.
I still remember that night in the hotel
Weeks before seeing the wall
Glistening oil appeared on my right foot
I scratched it vertically, and lightly before sleeping
Morning came and it ate away all my flesh
Its scab formed and cracked and leaked every step thereafter
Beginning to heal
Only when I returned
Grabbing my ladder to heaven
Which I intentionally left behind
Wrestling with God
To receive the blessing
Pondering the cause of dread
The fear of being found
The pseudonyms
The churches visited
The lacks of assurance
The constant, confident hopes
The mountains of cardboard
The horse on one of its peaks
Imagining that we’d walk that yellow brick road together
And watch Jesus walk by
Living with all those good samaritans
Dying for their Lord
But by the time I could see the wall, my foot healed
Only say a word and my soul shall be healed, too
I pushed in that flat plastic donut
Waiting for laser beams to reflect off your words
And there you were
Standing in front of me as I lounged on hundred year old concrete
The real you
Behind the mic
With a welcome audience
You must have felt loved
I could see you
Behind the mic
The real you
Nervous but eager to share
Your art
Your gift
So wonderful
To see your joy
And hear your crackling throat giggle
Beneath the mic
Wooing me
Then the laser beams stopped reflecting
And you were gone again
Not many wise
have lived on ninety dollars per month
and saved what they gleaned each day
just so they could tithe ten percent out of love
Not many mighty
have lived in remote locations with no fuel
and saved what they gleaned each day
just to get another junk car to pray in
Not many noble
have lived, inscribing their story into stony hearts
saving what they could glean each day
just to be known and loved for their fellowship in Christ
But God chose you
to become Wisdom to us from Him
—justice, holiness, and redemption—
to bring to nothing the things that are
When in doubt
Trust the experts
The experts are there
To help you
Establish trust
Sort through the complexities
Of these situations
Professionals and experts
Exist because the majority
Of the world
Are not experts
The system is designed
To help everyone
Remain informed
It was built
For the uninformed
To become experts
For the naïve
To be informed properly
We need to trust the experts
We need to follow the facts and the science
Wherever they lead us
Only they know
How to get us back
To where we need to be
knowing God is knowing
eternal life and knowing
eternal life is knowing you
the real you
the you without OCD
or perhaps glorious
OCD glorified
with the perfect
eternal crutch
that makes you you
to all who knew
that knowing you is knowing God