There are some mornings
I stand in my closet
And weep
Simply because I can’t fathom
You chose me
When I can’t even seem to choose
What shoes to wear
To protect my feet from
The dust
That will be me someday
That was me that day
The day You said yes.
Yes!
Even then
When I was sin
You saw me sitting at Your table
Gnawing the flesh off dry bones
Desperate for even the marrow-
Anything to make my own life grow.
You saw me then
Passed the bread
And said
“Here, take this.”
So I took it in my blood stained hands
Believing that I would never be hungry again.
When I find myself on these mornings
Weeping in my closet
I can’t help but ask myself
Why would I ever choose
To put on these shoes
And walk away from the aisle
And Your “I do.”
Even though
I do,
Choosing instead
To crawl to the street corner
And beg for bread.
Rae of Poeima 