As it turns out,
That 1980’s career test didn’t lie.
It is true that in your hour of crisis
I will be the one to show up and hold your hand.
You may call on me when your soul is stomping
In protest against the Almighty.
I will listen and pray,
Searching the Scriptures with you,
Waiting alongside you for rest and peace.
And in the quiet of night,
All I felt and observed will swirl onto paper
In the form of verse
Or , perhaps, a rambling letter
With an oddly metaphorical slant.
Yes, a poet-pastor wearing the title of Teacher.
But this girl of mine,
The one who called twelfth grade English death by poetry,
The one who runs into danger,
Leaving her mother wincing and praying,
Her career test didn’t lie either.
And that is a good thing.
For if you need to be tubed at the scene of an accident,
Or are in need of dramatic measures during your heart attack,
My listening ear and quiet words will do you little good.
It is my antonym that you will need.
The one who takes it all in
And acts without thought of fear.
The paramedic who wears the title of Daughter.