Rent

[By Johnny]

My life feels like pants
That are ten sizes too big
And I am awkward and
Stumbling.

Like if a child dressed up
In Daddy’s clothes

And you laughed.

Then stopped laughing
And told him in all seriousness,
"Go get a job and pay rent."

And rent’s due
And here I am
7 years old
And bone dry
Swimming in pants
I can’t even walk in. 

20 page paper due
And I don’t even speak
English.

Dance recital
And both legs broke.

You know the feeling?

That’s a hard one for me.
Being thin air. Being dust.

When someone spills their
Guts to me about their pain
And problems

And my choice in that moment
Is to either say something trite
And empty as a paper bag
Blowing down the street,

Or say nothing at all.

You know the feeling?

And thank God.

For rent due that exceeds
My checking account.

For pants that are way
Too big.

That there are things so high,
Only my screams can reach.

Because high means
There's such a thing
As flying.

Big pants
Means there's such a thing
As growing up.

Creation means there’s
Such a thing
As Maker.

And grief means
There’s such a thing
As joy.

You, Lord, leverage
My lips with the crowbar
Of pain, like a carjack
Cranking open my jaws
Inch by grunting inch,

So that you might fill
My mouth with Your praise.

And I am convinced
That you, the voice
Of the Wind, the beautiful
Music of my heart,
The author of my
Heartbeat,

I am convinced that you
Are only Good. And
Only Love, no matter
What they say. 

No matter what I say.

And you speak
Me large enough,
You tell me like a story
Too good to be true.

And I learn what it means
To call out to Daddy
For help, and the joy
Of You is this:

Instead of storming in
To my rescue through
Some outer door,

You burst through
The doors of my own heart.

You bloom forth.
From inside me,

Instead of giving me flowers
You make me to blossom.

Emmanuel:

You live right
Through me.

Live right through me.