canticle 30

i can easily sing
as you pick me up
after tripping over my faults,
and you duct tape the mouths
of the bullies who taunt me.
but you also hear my midnight moans,
and bandage my scraped knees.
you throw down a hope ladder
to help me climb out of the blues,
and so i join the acapella
group beatboxing your name.
your pique withers, your ill humor fades
but your grace is never withdrawn.
my heart breaks in the night,
but Joy tiptoes in to wake me in the morning.

on those really sunny,
all-is-well-with-the-world days,
nothing will bother me.
you hiked with me to watch
the sun rise over the mountains;
then you ran down the hill
out of my sight,
and i couldn't find the path.
i yelled for help, wondering
'who's going to rejoice
if there's no one to hear?
does dusty death know your songs;
will the grave shout your name?
if you can hear me, reach out
and show me the way!'
then, i will shuck open grief
and find joy's pearl,
i will slip out of my hair shirt
and put on your wonder,
singing to you, not just
on those really sunny,
all-is-well-with-the-world days,
but on all my eeyore ones
as well

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman