How do you explain to a child,that seeing is not always believing?
That the stars still exist in the daytime,
even when the sun is out,
but that there are no monsters
under her bed
or
in her closet
or
outside her window
watching her lay scared into sleeplessness?
How do you explain it to a child,
that God loves us,
protects us,
provides for us,
through the reality of nightmares,
the cruelty of friendship,
the unfairness of death?
How do you explain to yourself
that believing is more than seeing?
That yellow birds hang suspended
in the cloud-dotted blue?
That the greatest of these
is that one thing
that doesn't seem to be working?
How do you explain to yourself
that God loves us,
protects us,
provides for us
through the reality of disease,
the cruelty of depression,
the unfairness of economic poverty?
And yet he does,
and he does,
and he does.
When the yellow bird sails
and my fingers bend
and the stars shine,
I know.
Men can take from me
my life,
my Prozac,
my 401K,
But if the yellow bird hanging suspended
in the cloud-dotted blue
spirals to the ground,
he knows it,
and only he holds my soul
and he values me--
he values you--
more than a million canaries.
So I will speak in the daylight
what he tells me when I bolt upright,
in a pool of cold sweat;
What he whispers in my ear,
I will sing in my own voice
as I stand on the shingles of my roof.
He does!
And he does!
And he does!
