Lately I've Been Wondering ...

Lately, I’ve been wondering about God, god the deity,

creator, designer, giver and taker of life, all-knowing,

all-powerful; who is He really, fact or fiction, myth,

a creation story hero, where does he live, dwell, abide,

does he favor one group over another, one church

over another, one denomination, one religion, one country,

one dogma, one set of tenets, one set of rules and customs,

practices, does he prefer one style of prayer over another,

heads bowed, hands folded, penitent, and lofty sounding

with thee’s and thou’s, or just a quick much obliged, lord

in the rush of life, is amen necessary, signaling an end,

and what was he thinking with this creation, the why of this art,

the what, the reason for his artistic endeavor presented

to humankind, and how many layers of paint was scraped off,

layers underneath this one, hidden, how many starts and stops,

drafts edited or thrown away, until he got it right, and is it even done,

on display now, for sale at auction, or is it a work in progress,

subject to changes, revision, and correction; does he love us still,

can he love us now, forgive us wayward children, unworthy subjects,

or does he just relish the adoration, the power, the control,

is it as simple as Jesus loves me … this I know, from Sunday School,

or as complex as a Greek translation or Latin or Hebrew,

so many words for the same or similar concepts and how

can we know for sure, so many ages and generations removed

from Bethlehem and Genesis, like telephone gossip changed

from speaker to speaker, change building on change, and what

does he really want of us, command of us, so different now

in culture and context, conflicts over the hows and whos, the whys

and wherefores, and does this even matter, search as we might

in intellect and curiosity for answers to unanswerable questions,

proof, a search distracting us from the essence of God himself,

this divine creator of all of us, individuals, family units,

groups, states and nations, congregations, sects and denominations,

churches and synagogues, cathedrals and mosques, rented storefront

space of folding chairs and the mega space of light and sound,

Saturdays or Sundays or a mid-week meeting, King James

or NASB, NRSV, the Torah, the Talmud, the Quran, a choir

or just a joyful noise, silence even in which to listen, in which to hear,

in which to know him in whatever way we reach out, whatever way

we seek and find and worship, form a relationship with, old customs

or new attempts, old hymns and hymnals, a handful of people,

or new praise songs projected on a screen up front, an out of tune

organ or a small band of strings and brass and percussion,

microphones and amps, or maybe nothing at all, just Him,

just us, Him and me, talking, sharing our lives in the privacy

of heart and soul, knowing, believing, trusting, faith

in this God unseen, this deity an unknown reality,  

just a faith that He is, and so am I.

A Day at the Beach

I’ve never built a sandcastle at the beach,

one to be washed away with the rising tide;

I’ve found starfish, though, and sand dollars

and periwinkles in the pools left by retreating water,

dug a hole and buried my feet in the sand, felt

its grit the rest of the day, felt the sun’s warmth

on my face and bare back, cooled, too, by a cold

ocean, a salt spray, and felt the hot sand on my bare feet

padding the shore, walking hand in hand, lovers,

hearing the scream of sea gulls overhead and the wind

rushing past us, lifting their wings outstretched, soaring,

and me, too, carried skyward and away, drawn afar by the ocean’s pull,

ebb and flow, smoothing rough sand, soft and silky, now,

taking with it the detritus once carried in, perhaps, from a distant shore

I cannot see, looking even now for that bottle bearing a note,

“I am here, still, waiting, watching,” but I have no castle

built in the sand to give you, only the riches of a day at the beach,

shells and driftwood, beach glass worn smooth,

and the memories I carried home.

The Dance

Outside my window,

hidden behind the curtains,

the shadows danced

silently,

shadow and moonlight

partnered

dancing to music

only they could hear,

music of their own making

carried on the late night air.

 

And I,

hearing my own song sung,

my own music played,

joined them, silently,

            partnered with shadow, too,

swirling, twirling,

turning, a slow waltz,

dancing,

carried down a long path

to home

and back again.

Starlight Dawning

- 2 Haiku and a Bridge - 

The night sky dawns, hushed;

stars punctuating darkness,

calling out, “Truth! Truth!”

 

But there are some who fear the night

and the darkness and the stars punctuating

that dark expanse with starlight shining through,

carrying the wisdom of the ages and its truth,

truths carried age to age in the constellations

and the stories and the gods, and afraid, they hide

themselves inside, away from the darkness, hide

behind the artificial light of ignorance and fear,

and they do not listen, do not see, do not hear

the still small voices of the ages, the sages

of time calling out, “Truth! Truth!”

whispered to those too afraid to hear.

 

Truth called out, softly

spoken, rising, crescendoed,

in starlight dawning.