The Bargain

by B.A. Ryder

Faith Poetry Contest Contest Winner

Summer Sunday morning,
Warm promise of a new day.
Harsh ring tone,
Peace shattered like porcelain on marble.
I book a flight, we pack our bags.
Afraid to see him, eyes closed and breathing through a tube.
"Where's our son?"
He's awake, the tube removed.
Glassy eyes, face swollen and broken.
What happened? He doesn't remember.
Give it a few days, they say.
His brain needs time to heal.
The story wants to be told
But it's locked inside his mind, the key discarded.
Food dribbles down his chin.
His legs betray him when he attempts his escape from bed.
His bladder is an old man's.
He rambles with no filter, cryptic clues and truths that sting.
Lucid glimpses amid the madness give us hope.
But days stretch into weeks
And hope fades.
He knows he's damaged
And he rages.
Spastic with frustration, he pummels his thigh time after time,
His guttural cries piercing my heart.
I feel the chapel at the end of the hall.
No, that's not for me.
God and me, we don't talk anymore.
How rude to pray when I'm in need.
And then one day,
"Mom, why do we have to suffer like this?"
I am broken.
In the chapel I surrender, down on my knees,
I beg Him, beg Him, please God please,
I'll go to church and praise your name if you could just make him the same
As he has always been.
I return the next day, and the next, and the next.
His recovery feels like a miracle.
Back home, I keep my end of the bargain.
Churches tweak me but a deal's a deal.
Every Sunday, I sit and listen.
And then one day it just happens.
I feel His love.
Warm, peaceful, unmistakable.
And I'm all in.
I realize now that God has plans
And bartering changes nothing.
Was this His way of saving me?
How did I get so lucky?
They say he works in mysterious ways,
I can't argue with that.
I got so much more than I bargained for.
My son is the same
And I am not.

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