Select Page

A Question for God

Do not tell me what you think I need to hear

Tell me what I want to hear, but
Can’t believe
For life is short
And our dying inevitable

Do not tell me about my son’s sweet kisses
How they will fold into
Adolescent angst

Or predicate my days
In the blink of an eye
All tenderness will pass
My parenting irrelevant
As my children seize the day
I will grow old
Crying upon the graves
Of lovers and friends, parents
And you.

***

And you,
Our lives a mist
Disappear with me now
As dew on the morning
Sunlight on snow
Melancholy on autumn

These murderously imperfect
Blades of grass and withering flowers
Will we last until morning
And if we don’t
Will your last words to me be
You didn’t take out the trash?
Or pay the bills
We stopped going to the fair
Before we stopped wanting to ride all the rides.

And, what now of 40?
Who wants to play in the house of mirrors
Distorted images reflecting not
Who we are
But what we did not become

As a child, I cried for the bearded lady
While everyone else laughed
This part of me you missed
Dismissed
You thought
What is going on?
I once spent an hour
Staring at a picture
Of a man on Coney Island
His face was covered in tattoos
God.
What was the reason God made Oklahoma?

***

We bite the apple
Reach for the brass ring
That’s the way the ball bounces
My Daddy said
He could talk to me until I was blue in the face
I could not be convinced in a month of Sundays
He was human, only my father.

Free of lust, unburdened by hope
The world my oyster
I secretly rolled my eyes when he mentioned
Kwajalein
I did not want to hear about the days when he was young
I did not want to know the swooning sailor
Discover him human
And woefully lacking.

And, but, I did.
Like him.
Our rousing laughter over
What a pain Beowulf was.

***

Do not tell me what you think I need to hear
Do you think my failures escaped me?
In my quest to live in the spirit
To abandon the flesh
To become what is right and good and pure
I relied upon myself
And the incandescent Indwelling escaped me
And I remember
Geatland and Honalee
And, I remain
An unnamed dragon with a question
I cannot ask God.

How could He have let this happen?
How could He have let this happen?

 

Gen X Blog Jennifer Chronicles

Thank you for subscribing. Posts are delivered ONCE A WEEK on Sundays at 6 p.m. You can unsubscribe anytime with one click. Also, we will not share your email address with anyone.
Posted in:

5 Comments

  1. John Park

    That was so beautiful. You have a wonderful way with words, a great gift from God. Thank you for sharing that with us. God Bless You

  2. T.R.

    Wow, wow, wow. Save this for your book. Breathtakingly human!

  3. Lin

    I love the way you write! You have so much insight – and so much talent – Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

    I love you, Lin

  4. Loren Christie

    That was awesome. Well said, my friend.

  5. Anonymous

    Jen–

    You always amaze me when you write — Such vivid word pictures.

    In my ‘Senior’ years, I still need GOD to answer some questions. It isn’t a lack of FAITH on my part; but a deep TRUST, knowing HE has the answers.

    Love you– Gracie

Pin It on Pinterest