Any way – suffering or joy,
amazement –
you are a lump in the throat.
Sometimes we need pain
to shake us awake,
joy to rouse us.
Wonder to widen us,
to feel the stretch of you inside.
We are too often asleep,
a long-standing couple
dozing in front of the television.
Expectant of the other there,
we can fail to see.
So, you prod us awake.
Test our hearing,
our sight.
You filter us
to find our substance,
to see what remains under pressure.
Would we not want suffering
where we feel you best?
Would we only want joy?
Which gets old,
glad but old,
and common.
Would we need wonder
to stab us in the dark?
Like the moon and stars
that bring us out of ourselves,
and into the cold deep night
seeking largeness.
Would we only want wonder,
which leaves us too breathlessly
unmoored?
Pain, grief, fear,
these things keep us holding fast
and steering,
as though you, God
were our lighthouse.
Either way,
you are a lump in the throat.
And we,
we are like the groom
who forgets to swallow
as his bride enters the chapel.
Or the widow,
who in the midst of loss,
gulps down pain
again and again,
as memories
rising up.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2023
Living Tree Poetry 