November 29, 1989 • for Davey
the day before your birthday
was much like any other
little did this country boy realize—
working half-heartedly in the orchard,
singing songs and dreaming of the city—
that soon in that city
a new life would arrive
that would change his forever
the day before we met
was much like any other
little did this bleary-eyed dreamer realize—
just daring to hope again,
believing God had perhaps, finally,
given him permission to live—
that within hours,
in the unlikeliest of places,
a new, beautiful face would
etch itself deep inside him
bridging broken pieces
with an indelible mark
today
is a day much like any other
and well does this grateful sinner realize—
finding, at last, a love in kind,
a forgiveness like God’s own,
a fuller glimpse of his dear face—
that if tomorrow were not your birthday
somehow, in some sense,
I might never have been born myself