Did anyone ever tell you
your limp was beautiful
or that it's going to be?
Other men stride into
rooms with all the raw
confidence and numb vigour of
bulls in China shops
(breaking more than
dinnerware with their
untried horns).
But those tender, stumbling
tentative steps of yours—
on healing legs and broken heart—
they tell a story
more beautiful than words:
of wrestling with the un-nameable
One,
clinging in darkness desperate
till he touched you—blessed
you on the hip—
and you walked away
transparent,
shining in the final knowledge
of who you are.
Did anyone ever tell you
the ungainly gait he
left you with
was beautiful?
They will.
Jacob after Peniel, a poem
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