Skip to main content

Can You Love Me On A Saturday?

I know you can love me on a Friday--
when I'm dying
and you need to get
one last superlative out
before I slip away.

I know you show your love through grief,
with flowers at my feet,
as you mourn my coming absence
from your life--
as you think about
all the ways I've served you
that will be no longer.

(They say your foes return as friends
when what they thought would kill you
fails.)

I know you can love me on a Sunday--
when I've resurrected,
returning as something
more beautiful than before.

I know you can love me then--
when there is a blessed assurance,
a foretaste of glory divine.

But can you love me on a Saturday?

Can you love me in the sunken place?

Can you love me in between 
the all-to-familiar crucifixion and
the all-to-praised resurrection?

Could you love me when 
the flowers at my decomposing feet
have died--
when Sunday hasn't come--
when Sunday never comes?

Could you love me then?--
After the fall and before the rise?
After the light within has died,
Before the glow up of my snap-back?

How 'bout that?



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"We Thought You'd Be Next." πŸ’πŸ‘°πŸΎπŸ€ͺ

Recently, my little brother got engaged. πŸŽ‰ But can I just say, Hashtag Triggered?! πŸ˜‘
I was very thrilled that he finally proposed to his now fiance and that I absolutely love her. She is so sweet and brings goodness into his world. I'm so excited for them. However, during my last trip home to New Orleans, a family member was chatting with me about it and asked about my relationship, and then proceeded to say,
"I thought you'd be next." 😣
B*TCH, ME TOO! DAMN!
I did not say this aloud as I was in my father's house (#shondo #imchurchy), but everything in my body tensed up. Every hair stood up on my boiling skin and my heart began palpitating as I attempted to calmly explain why I wouldn't "be next" while simultaneously trying not to burst into tears in front of company. I started rambling about my burgeoning career--about "our" careers--and attempting to refocus the conversation while wanting to jump into the large pot of red beans simmer…

It's Cheaper To Die

This past December, I sat down with my checking accounts after my rent was paid, and I added up all of the past due medical bills that had been piling up for months (some, for years). I deduced that I had the funds to finally pay off the $500+ of unpaid bills--bills from the colonoscopy I had in 2014 and the biopsies I got done in November (nothing malignant was found). I was so proud of myself for paying off my medical bills at the end of the year. It felt like a tiny weight of debt was lifted from my aching back.
In January, however, I got slammed with a new set of unexpected and hefty medical bills and, honestly, my friends, it's cheaper to die. 😢
When you go to the doctor or dentist these days, there is a lot of lack of clarity about how much things cost. I knew I'd have to pay for some of the colonoscopy and x-ray, and I did so up front, but I wasn't expecting the unexpected remainder that my insurance suddenly decided not to cover to slap me across the face with th…

Surviving the Community that Supports R. Kelly (and Men Like Him)

Read Finding Love After Sexual AssaultHere
_______________________
My brilliant colleague, Danielle Williams Thiam, preached a sermon this fall on the rape of Tamar (2 Samuel 13). In her sermon she pointed out all the ways in which, not just Amnon, but the community and world in which Tamar lived participated in her rape. "Rape is a communal sin," she preached. I honor her words as a sexual assault survivor and as an advocate for holding the collective responsible for the violation of women's bodies, particularly the bodies of black and brown girls. ______________________
For every person who knew that Deacon so-and-so (who was in with the pastor) was touching little girls and turned their heads cuz they didn't want to 'fall out' with the pastor-
REPENT.
For every person who stood outside a closed door knowing that what was going on behind that door involved an abuse of power that ravaged a female body-
REPENT.
For every lawyer who knowingly defended a guilty…