Beads

“Therein lies the tension.”
Some minute barrier
between last night’s rain
and the wood planks.

I’ve noticed patches
where moisture
slips through the
worn walkway.

Oil lifted by one
step after another.
Carried off on the soles.
Beads no longer form,

those tears soak in
to be trampled again
and again, pressed in
to the grain, against the grain.

Now in the midday solace,
when the deck is dry,
its aching creaks
can be heard under the din.

For those whose tears aren’t strong enough to bead up in the tension, whose souls have no oils between what is and the hope of what could be, I’ve come back to these two words time and again:

“Jesus wept.”

Comments

  1. Ellen DeVries says:

    He wept for us!

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