Sunday, November 16, 2014

The friend I never had

The Great I Am                                                                                       

To You, this poetry is addressed as supplication
and remembrance but, also, the holding of You

at word’s distance, at arm’s length;
the channeling of a shriek, rage and whine

into winsome couplets of polite doubt,
flattery and offhanded inquiry.  Absurd! 

The attempt to peer at the Infinite Ever-present,
through the glass of imagery and metaphor;

the attempt to confine God within a human skull,
carry Him on the tips of our tongues, fingers,

brushes and pens; to pledge our allegiance to That
of which we know a terrifyingly scant nothing;

to That which we fear and mistrust
instinctively and almost entirely.

O child of God, it’s no small matter
ever, to speak of the Great I Am.

No comments:

Post a Comment