flesh wounds.

dear brother p.
i'm. sorry.
i'm sorry that i lashed out 
with reckless words
cracked like a whip-
not thought through,
but certainly meant to wound.
if we take a deeper look at why
we can see that my heart was
barely sewed shut from 
not yet healed cuts
and i am sure that is why i retaliated.
it is not ok to inflict pain
just because i feel it,
but that's what i did,
and i am sorry.
putting on some sort of
thorn encrusted shield
does not bring on 
peace and reconciliation
but more 
battles.
that is not what i want.
you are my brother
my friend.
i love that we mirror 
the same
skin color
and i can find you in a sea of faces.
i love that you have brought 
your skilled hands
and heart 
into our kitchen
and laid your love on a plate
i have tasted and enjoyed 
your colorful indian food
and i only want to 
learn learn learn
from the master indian cook.
I love that you take a 
gentle tone with me,
your dark eyes also 
mirror my own
your heart beats to the rhythm 
of tender brokeness
my heart 
sings the same song.
with all this being said, 
please know my 
earnest heart
honors and respects you 
as my brother and friend. 
the joy and affection you choose 
to share 
with me
and my family
is only considered a 
precious gift.
if we revisit the hurt 
i felt that day,
you arrived
distracted,
distant,
indifferent?
i was so excited to learn 
more of the craft in the kitchen,
we always welcome you,
but maybe this time
i felt pushed aside
so i sat on the stool
forgotten and misplaced.
you seemed agitated,
annoyed,
cold, 
and sharp
these are all the sharpest wounds
to my little soul
so i was aching and discouraged
i'm sure you never meant to be 
intentional
about these things
but maybe a simple
life is hard for me right now
would have helped 
ease the blows?
sigh.
and so, we fast forward
to us plopped on the 
silver cold bleachers
faces and voices floating around us,
and you are hurt 
for what i have just done to you,
disrespected you, 
plummeted stupid careless words 
your way,
and you stand there, 
stunned at the attack.
praise Jesus, in His mercy,
has not given us 
hearts of stone, 
but hearts cut from the same
softened fabric
and our words come tumbling out,
words of honesty and sincerity.
everything about you 
has softened
in my direction
and i know i don't deserve your 
forgiveness,
but you give it anyways.
your hand on my shoulder,
that gentle tone that means 
so much to me
finds its way back to me
the fragrance of 
peace and reconciliation 
lingers in the air between us
and it smells so good.
love you dear brother.
please come back 
to my 
kitchen 
and teach me?