God is Here
God is here.
I see it, the divine presence,
In the leaves that sway softly on a light evening breeze.
It is ephemeral, has been sensed
As a vapor rising off the body by many people
Who sit beside a still, smiling grandma
Or an uncle who shed a tear and said
The scientists are funny.
They struggle so to name it with their words:
Strings, plasma, force field, gravity,
Electro-magnetism, waves, quanta, dark matter,
Insisting regularly that the entire universe
Is based upon some form of flake or fluff
Or confetti or even unheard energy vibrations.
God is here.
I hear the presence in the
Indefinable chatter blubber
Of the tree frogs.
God is speaking to us
In so many voices:
The growl of the grizzly,
The screech of a hawk,
The hum of the stinging insect,
The sting itself.
God reaches so desperately
For the voice that a human may hear,
God is in the brick and mortar
In the furniture and the sheen
On its surface, put there
By oil, cloth and diligent hands.
Wax, water, bacteria, flowers,
Trees, waterfalls, swaying grasses,
Majestic stone, thundering clouds, crackling fire.
Still the audience looks around, puzzled interest,
Eagerly listening to itself, for itself,
Shuts out the din of calm silence,
Ignores the wisdom of stillness over a sleeping pond,
A faint flutter of something so quick and missed
It raises questions about reality.
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