Whoever welcomes one such child in my name
welcomes me,
and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me
but the one who sent me
—Mark 9.37
Not the mighty muscled Lord,
you come to me, God, small in the dark,
an orphan, fleeing, silent,
such tiny hands.
We walk by a wide sea, or is it a desert?
You crossed it
without knowing the future.
Can I bear without excuse
your enduring heartbreak,
your uncertainty?
What would you do
in these glaring streets, these chain link alleys,
without me?
You ask no greater courage of me
than to need no greater god,
to walk with you without words
into your childhood,
to hold your hand.
—September 20, 2018