Do you love me?—Sarah Crowley Chestnut

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by Sarah Crowley Chestnut

(John 21)

You asked me as a man, and
you asked me as the Maker of man. 
Four words, each the size and shimmer
of a grain of sand.  And gritty.

The question made us both naked.
But only you were unashamed.

I hurried my reply like a woman
clutching bedsheets, and caught. 
To say the moment was fraught 
does not mean it wasn’t pure.

A question as simple as bread, and clean.
Flour.  Water.  Salt.  Yeast.  Littlest, least.
Is yours a question of catch and release?  

Ask me and ask me, O ask me again.  
Ask me till I no longer care if I understand.

Your asking is food, is faith, is yoke, key, 
kindling, scale-sharp, and shimmering.  
I stood there, netted, hook-sunk, 
oven ready.

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Originally from Mariposa, California, Sarah Crowley Chestnut has lived and worked at L’Abri Fellowship in Southborough, Massachusetts, with her husband and two children for over a decade. Sarah’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Crab Orchard Review, Every Moment Holy Vol. III, The Windhover, CRUX: A Quarterly of Christian Thought and Opinion, Red Rock Literary Journal, and elsewhere. Her poem "Driving Home after the Eclipse, I Make Mental Notes" recently won first place in the 2025 Evangelical Press Awards.

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Photo by Duminda Perera on Unsplash