Anything & Everything

did it hurt?

when Thomas put his child-like
hand into your spear-torn
side—the only cure
for his grown-up unbelief? 


2,000 years later
my twins dig their toes
into the wrinkled skin
of my belly stretch marked
by my love and their growth.
	(I don’t mind it so much—)
but it hurts when the tips
of tiny toes find the edges
of the scar from whence
Jordan came and
sometimes I still feel 
the zip of the scalpel
across my tender skin
and I feel afraid. 


but they seem to seek it
like a reassurance,
like a firm place to stand 
amidst a sea of softness.
	(to be feminine is not all 
	softness—there is no one more 
	ferocious than a mother.)	

as if Nathan is trying to remember 
the way I roared him earth side 
with a power like the tide.

as if Jordan is seeking the strength
with which I held on to hope,
to consciousness, to her—
amidst incredible pain.

as if my scar, like an anchor
holds their four tiny feet fast
to this one truth:
I would do anything. 


And I think of Jesus 2000 years ago
his heart broken for the world
then and now— his heart 
aching for his friends, 
Judas’ betrayal still sharp
as a spear jabbing his mind—
his hand tracing the place
where thorns tore the forehead
his mother used to kiss goodnight
as they mocked him—
the memory of the pain
on her beloved face as she stood
there watching him die—
the agony of that last
shallow breath—

	this Jesus 
offers his torn open body to Thomas:
like a drink of living water;
like a mother with a milk-stained shirt,
and an open wound, 
and a bleeding body
coming for the crying child
in the dark of night with this
reassurance, this one truth: 
I would do anything. 


did it hurt? 

is the ache still there somedays? 
in your glorified body
where you chose 
to keep your scars?

2,000 years ago 
Thomas ran his clumsy fingers
across the edges of your wounds, 
and at last the proof sparked 
the flame in his eyes—
the light of a child believing
	at last 
in his own belovedness.


and here I am
grasping for the strength
of a child-like belief. 
digging my toes in
to this weighty anchor 
of a love that did everything.

One thought on “Anything & Everything

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