I ran five miles today
in Brown’s Woods
Bending parts I couldn’t bend
a year and a half ago
Broken-tree scrambling and
drinking in muggy air but
it’s a redemption tour:
Look how far we’ve come
in just one year
Brother and sister have moved out
and my mother and I watch our show
while dad converts the hockey room
into a hunting-fishing haven
Rollerblades and national anthems
echo in the concrete walls and yet
our new-apartment pots and pans
already gather dust:
We’ll stay here
perhaps another year
My old prom date showed up
on my friend’s Bumble
He remembered me but
I’m not sure I do
Better joints and braces, maybe
Now I need a gum graft but
I ran five miles in Brown’s Woods
My redemption tour:
You don’t gather dust
after just one year
I spilled coffee on my book
at breakfast the other day
I cursed in my head except
the spill is a perfect circle and now
a faded-brown halo highlights the word “grace”
It can be a happy accident but
I submit instead that it’s
a touch of redemption:
I don’t think I blame myself
As much as I did last year
I went to church again
socially anxious until they said
it only feels like a month
People were the same but different
But then again so am I and
aren’t we all just bending our parts anew
and redesigning old spaces
and remembering ancient times like yesterday
and seeing halos of grace in one another?
What is it like after one year?
Kind of like home, I said
From "Get Your Life Back" (John Eldredge), Aug. 2024
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