Be present with your want of a Deity
and you shall be present with the Deity.
Sometimes I lose you. Say you are a puppy
and I’ve left the door ajar. Or I’m due someplace
and can’t remember where. In my sticky-uppy
hair and ripped work shirt, I ransack the place
to find my datebook. Gone. Or I’ve dropped
my glasses and I’m crawling on all fours
to swab the floor with outstretched hands. I mop
blindly, my heart stuttering with fear.
Don’t tell me you are not a puppy. I know.
You’re not some destination. But I want to
tell you what it’s like to hunt, although
the words are clumsy. Vapor.
What it comes to:
You are the sky, the boat, the oars, the water.
You are the soul that longs to row and you’re the rower.