Even the bad stuff

After Philippians 1:12-18

I didn’t expect to end up

like this, chains on my arms

and legs, and a dank, dark cell;

it’s not exactly what we’d call

entering the city in triumph. 

I must have missed 

the commemorative arch. And

the waiting – a prison cell

of its own, day by day,

waiting to be called and

heard. There is no king

but Caesar; indeed? 

Suffering becomes self-pity

becomes anger, until the day

the guard asks me to explain,

and I do. Then another guard

asks, and the prisoner 

in the next cell as well, 

silencing his own chains

to listen. Then I understand,

only then, that I am here

in this place, even this forgotten,

condemned place, to serve

a purpose, the help fulfill

a plan, and I am struck with

wonder that even the bad stuff

is the good stuff. 

Photograph by R. Martinez via Unsplash. Used with permission.