Payment

Approaching The Cup

I owe everything to every unkept garden
and every torn poem
and lost pen.

I owe that bitterness
in the laugh of men 
with fair hands 
and unconscious reasons.
Even those whose hate
drenches fields, demanding crop,
scarce coin and admiration.

I owe the ones before me
who did not fear to speak too strong,
or praise too far
the throngs of distant, rhyming stars.
I owe everything to long nights alone
and to long nights alone
with her.

I owe everything to a big black dog
Who taught me the dark
drooling obedience to joy.
I owe every little pain
that bruises the peach or rips the pit,
every open-throated moan
we yearn to hear and surely won't,
every half a cry
and well-hid weeping.

And though it may only make
the smallest dent in that debt,
I owed the One who made me
to make all this for you, for us.

Remember me, O Lord, in Thy kingdom.