The silence of God
Here I am God
Speaking again into your vast unknown
Straining for resonance in space you left wide open
They say you speak through sunsets
That you voice the throat of sparrows
That I should look for you in the least of these
And that you also speak in silence
They say you are a jealous God
Who calls us from beyond the periphery of our understanding
But I am weary of mixing portents from selective mundanity
I hope for so much more than God-in-abstract
Who is unmoved by weeping
Perhaps the problem is all mine
Some deficiency of listening making holes in my audial spectrum
Perhaps I am too used to snowing my head with white noise
Or maybe my ears are all plugged up with sin-wax
But then again, can this really be a matter of technique?
An accident of genetics gifting some with God-ears?
Do you require some holy smoke-filled sanctuary?
Or a flagellated enlightenment?
Can a loving God be so capricious?
So I decided to stop sending all those wish lists
All the pleadings for success and significance
I will even intercede reluctantly
More out of habitual hope
And a desire to carry the shape of you to others
I mean in this no lack of respect Lord
What rights have I to command your attention?
Neither is this related to my lack of faith
Even when I forget where I planted my mustard seed
It is just honesty
In the face
But still I am listening