Displaced.

It’s been raining for as long as this goldfish can remember
And the forecast shows no sign of change

And I am tempted to complain
about the moat forming around my castle,

But then,

I think of floodwaters
Rising to meet eaves
And the displaced ones
Scattered through churning streets

My mind
Jumps borders
Envisages explosions
Tries to reckon with invasion
The places where displacement
Is not by nature, but by design

The gridlocked chess match
Of expensive weaponry and fragile egos
History is a finger painting of innocent blood
On repeat

Much closer to home
I think of the friends who cannot sleep
Battling invisible mental beasts
They text me to pray for them

I pray Psalm 23 for us all,
For the whole flooded, bloody mess of it
Are there green pastures and quiet streams,
Amidst all the dark valleys and enemy tables?
Sometimes I lose sight of the shepherd

As it all swirls through my mind
To the sound of constant rain,
I am hyper aware of the shelter
I have from the storms
I am sheltered — physically and emotionally
And there is no entitlement in it
No deserving of it
The things I am most grateful for
Feel like subtle reminders of injustice

And I don’t know how to do anything else,
Except cry out for the shepherd:

Please,
Don’t hide now.