This is long overdue. Thank you for waiting. The classroom you extend requires the utmost of presence.
The reading, writing, and interpretation listed on the syllabus are not optional.
There is no graduation, just continuation.
See then why it took me so long to take my seat.
Oh that I had learned your lessons earlier
and avoided the ice castle constructs blocking me from genuine freedom.
I did not know your liberty because I was too afraid to surrender.
You promised to set us apart, to help us stand up, to redeem our unbelief.
But I did not hear, too consumed with fix-it faucets slowly leaking the lies
of cheap repair, too consumed with the mythical protection of hard-heartedness.
Worn thin, out of ideas, I could no longer deny your power or invitation.
There came a moment when “do or die” went from slogan to maxim,
from sure I guess to unequivocal yes. I broke. You seduced. I came.You delivered.
I should have known.
When I was wrecked with nothing left you unraveled
with my slightest consent and made new the deadliest spot within.
I was surprised. Some days I forget only to return again on my knees.
You are generous.
I should have known tears would be the solution,
wordless exhaustion and admittance of despair my redemptive hope.
I have not received a grade, rather a summons
to participate in the most revolutionary of movements,
one that re-members me over and over again
in the faces of suffering, in the dust surrounding bodies torn apart
from rape, war, and neglect.
Sustained in this world without end.