Letters to God
Author's Note-
I use the word God. Some say Cosmos, some say Divine, some say source. Sometimes I say Goddess. You get the drift.
Dear God-
when you come to me as the bright half moon in a starry mountain sky, I want to reach out and pluck you from the velvet dark, hold you in my hands and stroke your porcelain skin, feel the sun reflected in you in a warm buzz, a pot half cooled from the stove top.
When you come to me as a bad dream, I am confused by you. I seek understanding and clarity. Perhaps I should not seek to analyze and compute but merely allow the experience, like I would go on a roller coaster ride, not wondering what the conductor meant by those strange images and feelings, the paralysis of my own fear clutching at my throat, no words, just desperation to force my lips and breath into sounds to scream for help.
When you come as one of my addictions, I am fraught with terror, consumed with desire, eased by wisdom only after a taste of that which is insatiable. In this longing is you, I know it, if only I could find you before I fulfill the hurtful want. I cry out, as I do in the night for the moon, for the words- a child reaching for mother, for that place from whence I came and was part of wholly (holy), where I can never return for now I am separated from that thread of dust and blood.
And when you come through me,
as you do always, but I only sometimes notice-
in my capacity to love another-
I am in awe.
Such beauty is you in all these ways and means to return me to that place I never saw but know so well.
I use the word God. Some say Cosmos, some say Divine, some say source. Sometimes I say Goddess. You get the drift.
Dear God-
when you come to me as the bright half moon in a starry mountain sky, I want to reach out and pluck you from the velvet dark, hold you in my hands and stroke your porcelain skin, feel the sun reflected in you in a warm buzz, a pot half cooled from the stove top.
When you come to me as a bad dream, I am confused by you. I seek understanding and clarity. Perhaps I should not seek to analyze and compute but merely allow the experience, like I would go on a roller coaster ride, not wondering what the conductor meant by those strange images and feelings, the paralysis of my own fear clutching at my throat, no words, just desperation to force my lips and breath into sounds to scream for help.
When you come as one of my addictions, I am fraught with terror, consumed with desire, eased by wisdom only after a taste of that which is insatiable. In this longing is you, I know it, if only I could find you before I fulfill the hurtful want. I cry out, as I do in the night for the moon, for the words- a child reaching for mother, for that place from whence I came and was part of wholly (holy), where I can never return for now I am separated from that thread of dust and blood.
And when you come through me,
as you do always, but I only sometimes notice-
in my capacity to love another-
I am in awe.
Such beauty is you in all these ways and means to return me to that place I never saw but know so well.
