Coach (a poem)

I worry a lot,
but in the end
I’m an optimist.
I tend to possess that
stubborn kind of hope
that hangs on long after
the game’s been called,
and the crowd’s dispersed,
and they’ve shut off all
the bright lights.

It hurts a lot sometimes,
but I would never trade
for the despair that comes
to pinch hit in hope’s place.
Not usually, anyway.

But lately, I’ve been afraid.
This world is running
harder than seems healthy,
and that one guy is just
so big and scary,
and I’m pretty sure
the other side is cheating.
Honestly, it seems like
everyone is tired and hurting
and I’m tired too.
Sometimes, I don’t think
we stand a chance.

But God finds me hiding
in the dugout and
growls in a gravelly voice
at once intimidating
and inspiring:

Get up there and bat.
There’s game to played,
and fields to be crossed,
and our lineup
is lacking without you.

I can tell She means it,
by the look in her eyes
and the strength
of her stance.
She is not done yet,
and She won’t let them
call this game,
no matter what.

Turns out She’s an
optimist too.
And She’s even more
stubborn than me.

2 thoughts on “Coach (a poem)

  1. Pingback: All The Poems I Wrote in Lent | Reverend Fem

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