gape

the blue tarp over the swingset waves frantically to me as I watch from the kitchen window
-finally broken partially free after a hard winter and snags now, and falls limp, and then rears brilliantly to life for a moment

on Saturday they will carry homemade cards and packages of new magic markers
(sixty-four)
and shrug off their coats and greet each other
with wild gaping smiles
these friends and
all of these teeth shed through the winter
delighted
they will not lift a hand to cover a smile
or hide the hole beneath tight lips, no
they will slide a tongue to demonstrate
how one dangles
comparing gaps
and grins
they will take giant bites of birthday cake
and chew with their gums and believe
in joy and
growing older

while we take a hammer to mend
our tarps
another season
and only under the safest conditions
lift a hand
to whisper
bare the empty places

but I wonder-
this hole
in our theology
our psychology
our story
our health our heart
maybe we still are losing teeth and
growing up and
out of childish things
to make room for new--
   truer than true
hope
and will we arrive at Heaven
with sloppy packages
and art
and questions
and wild gaping
delighted
seven-year old grins

Comments

Jo said…
Dammit, you made me cry. This is beautiful, Jess. I just love it. And I love you, and I love that when we get together, we don't wait for heaven to grin like seven year olds.
Anna said…
beautiful...I do hate that I am responsible for the most part...making my sons smile a little smaller, losing that wonder, comparing himself to others in negative ways or at least coming up with negative conclusions... because of my own gaps. I so want to encourage the questions, the innate joy, the unconditional trust, growth...making room for the new in spite of my own holes :)

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