“It is good
that I am leaving you.”
You said these words
to your dear friends
soon to know
heart muscles
ripped raw,
lungs refusing to fill,
all sight taken from them
in grief’s moonless night.
I have not known you
like they did.
I never stood in the shade at the edge of an olive grove and listened as the song of your strong, sure love rose up from the depths of you,
kissed the wind and
set off some wild hope.
I never fell down in the desert dirt to hold your dusty feet, and weep my gratitude, or took bread from your hand,
broken and blessed,
and felt it quiet
my hunger.
But I know what it is
to ache for you to be
right-here-now-close,
so I can hear,
touch,
hold
and receive you.
“It is good for me
to leave,” you said,
“because I will
come to you and
live closer than
your heart ripped open,
nearer than
the air pressing
against your lungs,
more satisfying than the bread I once blessed and broke.”
“It is good
that I leave,
so I can come
so much closer.
And stay.”
——
But very truly I tell you, it is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you;
but if I go, I will send him to you.
John 16:7
From Heaven at my Door by Juanita Ryan