Where the airplane gashes morning sun
the summer loses all its fun
I turn and run from everyone;
I turn and there meet you.

When everything is done and said
and I’ve been beaten ’bout the head,
lying in the gurney bed—
that’s where I’ll meet you.

—

I’m about to commit the cardinal sin of writing poetry, which is to accompany a poem with my own commentary. I’ve wanted to share this poem for a while but haven’t. It came to me as I was settling into Oxford some months ago. When I wrote it, the recent anti-gay violence in Russia (and the scattered incidents in the States) was very much on my mind. I very rarely write love poetry, but when I do, it often ends up being as applicable to God as much as to any possible person. This, I think, is especially true for this poem. I’ll leave it at that.

Thanks to Maddie for her critique even though I was unable to resolve the little bumps.