Lenten meditation from Sally Buckner.
and again. The first birth,
according to script, I bellowed
on cue, even without a spanking.
Once didn’t suffice.
Thirteen years later, my adolescent self,
mired in sins authentic and imagined,
wept its way to salvation, and I saw
the Light, I saw
that promised Light.
But darkness sidled in, and
immersion in the river didn’t
wash those sins away, not
The third, fourth, and fifth
bornings are indistinguishable. I kept
treading that trail to the altar
just as I was, without one plea,
surrendering to the eleventh or twelfth
rendering of that old hymn, underscored
by a litany of appeals: “Just one
more stanza, I know
you’re out there!” He knew. Oh,
he knew. His hands fell
like hammers on my bowed head.
After the fifth, I stopped
counting, eventually stopped
yielding to those entreaties, musical
or otherwise, ceased marching
down peopled aisles. Instead, I daily stumble
shadowed, rutted roads, lift
my eyes to note rabbits bouncing
through sun-sprayed woods, a loblolly pine
thrusting into placid air, a child
trusting its father’s hand, a neighbor
sharing a still-warm loaf of bread, and
I see the Light, O, Lord,
I see that cherished Light!
During the season of Lent, daily meditations from members of the Pullen community are being posted online. Subscribe by email at www.pullen.org/category/meditation.