Here's to Job

Your needy.
And have lost all of your friends as a result.
You're shaky and no one wants to be around,
you.
Because it's awkward and it makes them look bad
and they just don't know what to do
with someone so sad
or...
weird.
With words reminiscent of middle school exclusion they describe you
weird.
uncool.
And we're adults now...
Supposedly.

Your face is markedly,
depressed.
But your soul is obviously,
underfed.
Or...not so obviously...
to your "friends"?

So I sit with you,
with ashes on my head
and there we lay
with discipline.
Not because I'm saintly
Not because I'm holy,
but precisely
because I identify with how lonely
one gets
when one's soul is underfed

And we connect
at this one spot,
with all else qualifying as "extra"
our brokenness is where friendship begins
And funny, my brokenness, is where relationship
with Jesus lives