Would it be so wrong to think of God,
again, in physical terms,
like of old?
Today, a little girl
with still new steps pranced with a
confident unassured gait back and forth
between a concrete sidewalk and
grass. And though those hired to
try to tame Earth’s green growth
to appropriate a contrived commercial
scape had obviously recently been there,
the freedom in the child drew her
to God’s small, manicured, fingers,
even as her cultured mother tried to keep her
on a fabricated foundation.
But God’s hands were still reaching,
even if they would leave a reminding
itch upon her knees should she have
fallen, even though the green grass
drew the girl into the sun, its burning
light, threatening to blemish,
as her worried mother feared, her
smooth, pale skin, plump cheeks,
with the heat of red life.
1 comments:
this is really beautiful. thank you.
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