The guard speaks

After Philippians 1:12-18

You call this a gospel,

good news, do you?

You say you find peace

even here, do you?

I’m not the one 

In the cell and even

I find this place a pit,

a dread, I would rather

be anywhere but here,

even fighting barbarians

in those forests forsaken

by the gods. And yet

you say you find

contentment here, that

your soul, your spirit,

your mind is at peace.

So, tell me more, prisoner,

tell me how you find

contentment in this place,

how you find peace

in this earthly hell. 

Photograph by Carlos Rabada via Unsplash. Used with permission.

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.