A Meditation for God

Let's light lamps, sit on a warmed

blanket in the presence of earth-breath

puppies, sleeping with necks crossed

over each other. Let's send a letter back

to God, knowing we could never compete:

     Thank you for holding my hand

as I breathe, you are like a candle to me:

in your presence I hum in light of your

flickering silence, I am safe. Your love

is both shield and sword, both in light

and dark, you shape-shift your love.

I live when I feel close to you. You change me

and make me new again and my joy

in each discovery is the fossil I find

buried in effort's dirt.

     It is hard not to imagine you human:

it is the human in me you forgive. You are

in every where and thing I feel you near

in the sound of rain the roots and I

collect you and curl in the satiety of you.

I feel you near when ear presses to her breast

I hear you inside the cocoon of her bones

around muscle: you have created

something so beautiful that through her

you bring me to knee with closed eyes, 

and a gratitude swelling for all she is,

all you are.

     I feel near you in the eyes

of others-- other creatures, other humans

who like me breathe to know you, remember you,

recall, call out for you. (Surely you know

if you press us in the right place, we will sing

and fill the holy cave with blue notes

of ache and praise.) You are like the

song our mother sang to us in womb:

you are both the womb and the song

we know from Universes ago,

we return through you again and again,

swaddled in your holy echo.