He works hard at his religion,
\nthis man gifted with words,
\nwith motives.
\nGod is on trial, with genuflections.
\nPut in the dock and asked to swear,
\nis this what you meant?
\nIs this what you\u2019ve done?
\nDo you dare to exist?
\nAnd do you follow your laws?
\nAnd his friends join in.
\nThey travel around beer, around wine,
\nmaking stops now and then,
\nuntil day, like a wilted flower
\nfalls over,
\nuntil the evening becomes dry of its sweat,
\nuntil night itself yawns
\nand begs for relief.<\/p>\n
But God sits quietly in the dock,
\nsaying nothing.
\nListening, waiting, watching,
\nthe man and his friends try him.
\nWatching the moon set
\nand the stars blaze,
\nlike crystal in the night.
\nHearing the far off cries of children,
\nthe whoosh of moth wings,
\nthe soft tenderness of a mother\u2019s voice,
\nsinging.
\nHe is patient.
\nHe is alone.
\nThe wind blows through him
\nunto the beach.<\/p>\n
Prayers gladden him,
\nand he weeps,
\nand he cares,
\nand he suffers,
\nand the long distance of forever
\ncovers his shoulders,
\nand makes him cold
\nand weary,
\nand then he sleeps,
\nas the man goes on questioning,
\ncajoling,
\nwaiting for answers.<\/p>\n
The man\u2019s friends too,
\nchallenging for one last time
\nwhy God stays silent,
\nwhy he sits so quietly,
\nwhile the night,
\nthe heavens blaze,
\nand untold worlds wait.
\nThey do not question.
\nThey do not ask where he is.
\nThey do wait.
\nThey know him.
\nThey feel him.
\nThey forget what true darkness is,
\nfor only he knows,
\nand he is not telling.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
He works hard at his religion, this man gifted with words, with motives. God is on trial, with genuflections. Put in the dock and asked…<\/p>\n