Guide My Feet

At twenty-five I try to have my life put together
Like a good job, a house, husband or wife or whatever
But life’s a puzzle like the ones from the thrift store,
It’s a gift, but you sift through the pieces scattered on the floor
Puzzle detective, you can call me Ace
Puzzle directive, get every piece in place
This puzzle’s defective...No, I’m just trying to save face
I need some help while i’m running this race

Guide my feet, while I run this race, for I don’t want to run this race in vain...

Life can sure shooty-sharn rain on your parade
And you can come oh-so-close and still miss making the grade
But I made a trade, swapped grades for spades,
Now I’m digging furrows and burrowing back into those warm cliches
Back into the dirt in which we played, in which we were grown
Back into the dirt in which we were raised, in which we found a home
When we were kids it was all about laughing and singing
Bees buzzing and stinging, phones actually ringing
And if you hurt, just cover it up, slap a band-aid on,
Get back outside, be tough, not much else can be done
Now, surrounded by dirt, dirt all around,
Dirt on my shirt, shirt on the ground, dirt on the ground, dirt IS the ground
And I’m grounded in the dirt, reverting to inert dirt, into which I insert all my worst hurt, I bury it
Like Jesus in a tomb, buried in Mary’s womb,
Very soon it bursts forth, the hurt in full bloom
Resurrected, still connected to the pain
But redirected by the rain and the face of the Son
The soil is love, sisters and brothers, and the race we run on

Guide my feet, while I run this race, for I don’t want to run this race in vain...

At eighty-five my grandma pulls a puzzle from the shelf
Lays the pieces on the table, because she’s able, and does it herself
Looks up from her work, sees my Grandpa sleeping in his chair
Shakes her head, six months already he hasn’t been there
“I don’t feel eighty-five”...well, Grandma, it’s because you aren’t
You’ve lived your life so well, given so much, got so much love in your heart
You’re just a kid, like me, playing, dirt and grass stains on your knees
Our races still just getting started, so God, please guide our feet

© 2013 Gregory J. Yoder