Being Good

The last time I saw him
I promised that
I'd be faithful.
I half expected him to
laugh at my attempt
to be sincere.
I was never good at faith.

Instead, his smile
wrapped around me like
a baby's blanket.
I smiled back, if only
to pretend that I was not
smothered by its softness.

He had to know I'd hide
from his unrelenting care,
this time being no different
than countless others.
Fear happens to be my best color
and it goes well
with camouflage.

Still, just yesterday,
he found me.
The stench of my frustration
and self-pity must have
wafted to high heaven.
He snuck up on me as
I was cussing out
my luck... the world...
my computer.
"GOD DAMN IT!"
I vehemently spit into the air.

"What if I don't want to?"
he whispered.

I could not help but
to be humbled by
his humor, and his love.
Maybe I don't have
to be good at faith...
just at being found.