God Whispers

The earth has moved through another

revolution; there are still many fine mornings

when you just might believe

that anything at all is possible

                               Christine Valters Painter

_________________________

 

hope

is an illusive thing

 

after all

it’s a pretty grim world out there

a “dark night of the soul” kind of world

 

if one dares look to long at the doings

of leaders behaving badly

if one ponders too much about the implications

of words spoken from the high places

if one looks at the chaos in the streets

at the dark, armed presence of the resentful

and the unruly behavior of nature

 

it is scary

 

one can feel the palpable hate

coming from those who would put on the armor of evil

and wage war against those they have chosen

to dehumanize

 

one can feel the despair of those for whom

there is no justice

 

one can even feel the apathy of those

protected by power and wealth

ignore and abandon the poor and the vulnerable

 

and yet

hope is persistent and tough

 

hope rises unbidden, like the sun

it pulls us to our feet

 

if not to our feet, then to our knees

where we, like the alien woman

scramble beneath the table of the universe

searching for crumbs from God

 

the crumbs of hope

 

what crumbs will I find this day?

 

will my eyes be able to see the beauty of nature?

will I feel the breeze on my face?

will I rejoice in the smell of frying bacon?

will I read something that will lift my heart?

will I hear words of kindness?

will I see someone act with love?

 

will I catch a glimpse of justice served?

 

will these small sacred acts be mixed in among

the lies of the President,

the violent resentment of the white militia

the sometimes destructive despair of blacks

(whose protest and lament can also be sacred)

the deadly creep of C19

the devastating power of Laura

the roaring infernos in our forests?

 

and will they be enough

to feed my soul

and keep it from starving

 

Ah, yes

even the crumbs of grace

are enough

 

it is complicated to be sure

hope is mingled with despair

joy is mingled with grief

love is mingle with hate

 

sacred is mingled with profane

 

it is not a black and white world

it is not either/or

it is (and always has been) both/and

 

it is a Jesus on the cross world

a Peter the denier as the rock work

it is me a sinner as a saint world

 

it is a world where

as the chaos roars

as the window blow, the fire roars

 

God whispers in our ears

 

“Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”  (Shel Silverstein}

 

for I am with you

and will never leave you alone