Getting to God

I wrote three paragraphs today, and now I will attempt to turn them into a cut-out poem.  Keep the words in yellow and ignore the rest.

I slept through meeting for worship again and the sleep was sweet and quite deep.   Obligation to show up gave way to the one I’m accountable to—God—who’s always with me, and would wake me if I held today’s post as host. God is in me and I am in God/earth so wherever I look, in terror or security, I see God.  Dual, triple, quadruple nature is impossible to grasp.  But there is nowhere else to go, so I grasp.

In High School I had a Catholic boy-friend who was sure of Angels and Devils.  He got to go to confession. How I envied his remote God. And his Sunday minute of contrition and forgiveness. In my home, no church or synagogue displaced Dad.  There was nowhere else to go. Punishment hurt, so transgression was rare.  But love was close, too.  And hugs far outnumbered spankings.   Turns out my home provided good practice for becoming Quaker and carrying God, being of God, seeing God everywhere, walking with and speaking to God in everyone.

For me reality became God, so much so that I welcomed and befriended and walked with Jesus Christ.  I needed a go between except for when I take walks or meditate and chant with the rhythm of my heart or footsteps: I am here, God is here, I am here, God is here, I am here, I am yours, God is here, I am here, I am yours, and so on.  What a pity that these days walking causes me pain.  Jesus knows there is so much pain in this world, so much pain in the species homo sapiens. I walk less.  I walk slower: God is here, I am here, I am yours.

 And Cut Even Further:

God/earth 

terror 

security 

dual, triple, quadruple nature 

to grasp.  

nowhere else to go. 

nowhere else to go. 

practice for 

walking with 

God. 

Here

God is here,

God is here, 

God is here.

 April Challenge Day 17 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

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© 2023 Susan L. Chast