A Backyard Conversation

Photo by Chasinghorizonsphotography

A poem by Alexis Ragan

I was sitting on the swing 

that rests peacefully on the backyard porch 

one evening when my best friend called. 

“It’s been ages,” she tells me, “since I last 

heard your voice!” We do the usual catching

up we do, the venting, the decompressing, 

the overstating simple feelings made complex,

and we catch up right where we left off,

eventually getting sleepy on the phone 

with each other because of all the passed 

time. “In past times, I know we would 

have responded differently,” I said, 

on the topic of change, to which 

she replied, “but boy, is that new leaf turning!”

as to hint towards my recent transformations.

I was still sitting on that swing when the sky

turned a peculiar shade of amber, 

crisp slits of cloud striping the sky in 

autumn squiggles, and I pause. 

“There is something I wanted to ask you,”

I say, noticing something in the distance.

“Can the wind run?”

“Yes,” she said, “I have seen it.”

This told me all I needed to know.

I went inside my home to write to my pastor

that evening, and in the letter I included 

this realization — it was more than a 

realization really, rather, the epiphany

of it all made goosebumps form on the 

surface of my skin. Yes, sin lingers within

sometimes, but if wind can run then so can 

the wind of my heart, for I have felt the breeze

of Jesus move from within me, then circulate

throughout my entire temple, a most reviving 

experience reminding me that I walk 

with a wind within that is more alive than 

I’ll ever be. And I am grateful it lives here.