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Wrestling Match

I wrestled you again last night,
it seems you like and take delight
	in messing up a good night’s sleep. 
No one knew I wrestled there
laying as if without a care. 
	They’d have thought me counting sheep. 

But sheep were least of my concern.
An empowered soul is where I turn; 
	a far and distant hope. 
I cannot know the hours you stole
from sleep; is this your goal
	to watch me fumble, fall, and grope? 

When will you come and sit with me
and talk like friends like it used to be?
	Is that forever gone? 
I miss those times when I would run
and you would chase; we can’t be done; 
	O, God, I’m barely hanging on! 

I find it hard to talk with you;
I just don’t know what I’m to do. 
	Give me direction, bless me with peace. 
In nakedness I feel my shame
and wanting not to play the game 
	to find your gentle, sweet release. 

I do not hear you call and say, 
“Where are you, son?  You’ve gone away.” 
	The room has fallen quiet. 
So I, with voiceless courage do
call out instead, my God, to you: 
	“Where are you?” and wait in silent riot. 

The door stands shut and locked up tight;
I pull it hard throughout the night
	and stand there at your door with knocks.
I wait and listen for your stride 
to open it; bring me inside;
	unbolting doors and throwing locks. 

I died that night on skull-faced hill
and wait in silence for your will, 
	laid out on rock hard stone. 
Dare I await a resurrection
and taste the joy of your affection? 
	I fear I’m laying here alone. 

And so we wrestled through the night.
I fought hard; you took delight
	in grappling yet another round.
And to the mat we went once more.
You swiftly brought me to the floor,
	with silent force without a sound.

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