Grace and Peace to you.
Dark and early in your story someone fearful
of your inborn glory took it
and buried it behind your house,
and you, innocently, and wise to save yourself
from their greater wrath,
believed its absence.
It’s not a pompous glory,
insistent on regard, but sure and quiet
as a wildflower’s, asking nothing.
And so you’ve lived—so have we all—
without it, your heart shoveled over
with self-doubt and apology, as if
you have no place or voice here
What do you think happened
to the cripples who flocked
to Jesus, the mute, the paralyzed,
bent over, shut out, gone mad?
And all he meant to say was this:
you shine. You bring a gift
as no one else, and you belong.
Your Word deserves a hearing,
and this world needs your beauty
and your grace. There is no rank
you fall below, no worth you fail to match.
Your shuttering was evil, and God
wants it undone, and wants you whole.
And so she takes you by the hand
and raises you to stand, to walk, to speak.
She listens to your song with joy.
She rains upon the earth
until you are unafraid of your radiance
and all our houses are surrounded by wildflowers.