The clouds and the leaves
mourn
for this man,
for they already know
what the verdict
will be:
he must be broken.
And yet they rejoice,
for they know
what he doesn't—
they know that being broken
is the best thing
that will ever happen
to him.
It is this way
because it has to be.
Things happen
as they must.
Everything happens
in perfection,
in the finest version
of itself.
I trudge by
like an old woman.
Weary, weary,
and yet
there is a huge violence
within me—
a power that rails against
my age (both old and young).
I want to wail at him,
run to him,
throw my arms
around his shoulders
and scream
Don't you know what you're doing?
But he won't see.
All my self-control,
all my years of training
come down to this moment.
And the decision to walk away.
Confrontation is weakness.
It is walking away
that is the realest strength.
Not ignoring—
Walking away.
With purpose.
And praying,
Lord, break this man.
Destroy him
so he may rise.
The clouds and leaves
weep with me
as we sing
Things happen as they must.