Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the beauty
Of Missouri: the river, the fields,
And all the wonder of them
I’ve been able to steal.

But the people here that You rightly love
Have been brutal to me
All empty words and numb hearts-
An ice gauntlet: a frigid battery.

And I know You,
How You must grieve
For all of Your prodigals
But I want to leave.

I can’t wait to forget this place.

In a raw season
I let them in.
I bitterly regret it,
But I can’t get them out again.

Their appraisal of me
Will be the one that carries me
For the rest of my life:
The one that buries me.

Is there a corner on this earth
I can curl up under for comfort?

Is there any safe place for me
To rest in peace?

I hate it here.