I didn’t want a divorce
but I got one, Jesus.
A broken relationship
handed to a judge.
No prison, but
I’ve never been released.

So many gifts I’ve laid
before your altar
never certain whether
there was someone I had hurt.
But no, I lie. There was always
someone whether I knew or not.

To reconcile, though – ah, there’s
the rub. For now I’ll ask
“On whose terms, precisely, Jesus?
I have my injuries, my hurts.
Who’ll make their peace with me?
Who’ll listen to my terms?”

Don’t say it, Jesus. I know
just what you’ll say to such
a question; you’ve no need
to say, “My terms.”
Oh, go ahead. I’ll wait. Just
say it… Oh. You did.

A poem/prayer based on Matthew 5:21-37, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel reading for Year A, Sixth Sunday after Epiphany.

Photo by Eric Anderson.