Even the shattered pieces
of what used to be mine
are gone–
slipped through my fingers,
leaving my palms bare
from skin to sky
changing me from proud guardian
to hopeless beggar.

So it looks like it’s you and me again, God
in the same place we always seem to meet
and at the same time:

Palm Sunday
when I go to you with an outstretched palm
because once again
I’ve taken what I had
and squandered it.

I only wish I could be a prodigal.
I’m not smart enough.
I’d still be in the far land
spending my nothing on nothing
after the money was gone.

I suppose I should ask you
why you always let me get into these fixes
but a better question
is why I always let myself do it.

At a certain point
you’d think a person would realize
that the fence is always electrified.

Don’t bother sending a sign, Lord.
I don’t need your money
Don’t need your pity
Don’t really even need your advice.

What I need is a new me.
One that can’t fail me like the old one always does.
I promise not to complain
about the size, shape, or color.

Just hit that ‘RESET’ button
and let me start again.

Clean slate
no running processes
no conflicting devices in the hardware profile.

I can’t promise that I’ll do better
but I can promise that I’ll do.

Oh, and, by your leave–
what’s sadder, Lord?
That I think a fresh start with you
is as easy as pushing a button?