(for Siani Woodard)

 I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made– Psalm 139:14

Half-court.

Dad said our perch from steep bleachers
allowed us a good view of the players.

I said nosebleed seats allowed us to view
constellations of fans netting the stadium.

Dad described the court as a game space.
I described it as a canvas of living oils—

bopping in hues of combustible blues, white
clouds, luminous reds splashing tees, jeans.

But when the game resumed,
when a buzzer beater gave our team its win,

Dad jumped up, joined in collective cheers.
And I found myself raising the rafters, too—

the thunder of tinnitus-threatening roars       
clapping harmony with my own heartbeat.

Even the Good Book squares as fact that ninety-
nine point nine percent of all human DNA is

exactly the same, only one percent makes each
of us unique—what my ratio fearfully, wonderfully

makes me to be, and especially at my first
basketball game witnessing eighth-grade science

tell a Gospel truth? I felt the thrill in everyone’s
face shape mine. I heard my voice sync to theirs/

a joyful din. But far as I know, I was the only one—
journal open—poised to jot down all those marvels

unfolding.

You can hear a conversation about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast.

Photo by Sean Benesh on Unsplash