Through the night Jacob had to fight,
Eye to eye, arm to arm,
held, twisting, pulling, knees. elbows,
Muscles and joints tensed in the search for purchase,
Pressure building in desperation and frustration,
Why must we wrestle, how is that love?
But the fight will not end,
Where is mercy, where is peace?
No space, face to face,
Only hard eyes and harder fists,
Down on the solid earth,
Bruising,
Tearing,
Ripping,
Bleeding,
In the dust and the dirt, stinging raw flesh,
Grinding bones and bedrock,
Forcing breath, and sweat and pain.
Day breaking, body breaking,
By the crooked river,
Bones are bent out of shape,
Forever crooked.
Scars born in love and hope,
Wounds exchanged for a name,
a blessing ripped from deepest injury.
With the rising sun a gift of pain that remains.
A reminder of the most intimate battle.
Not won or lost, just fought.
PICTURA POESIS 