Were I God
I would dive
into the darkest shadows
of being human,
into profound pain,
outrageous loss,
unbearable suffering,
and I would swim
towards Light
taking with me
as much of the brokenness
everywhere and of all time
as I could gather.
Were I God I would live
in despair and in hope.
I would be
the inspiration of a poem,
the rainbow, the dew on the grass,
the color of fall, the gentle breeze,
the kind word, the tender touch,
the laughter of children.
I would abide in every flower,
every seed,
every cry and sigh,
I would be
the possibility of
each new moment.
I would be weakness
finding strength,
never lording it over others,
but in every humble service,
pitching my tent
among the poor,
preferring the outsiders.
I would nestle in vulnerability:
risking and giving Self.
Were I God I would hide
so subtly within all creation
that I could never be caught.
I would be so unutterable
as to resist being talked about,
and hate the name "God"
remembering the oppression
done in my name.
I would exist beyond any word
any symbol,
any possible expression,
but I would dwell
in every human groan.
I would avoid expected places:
some pulpits, rituals, churches.
I would never be snared
by theology, religion
or even prayer.
I would exist solely
to be given away,
never to be comprehended or
held by safe orthodoxy:
far more verb than noun.
I would be yearning for freedom,
passion for justice,
thirsting for peace,
searching for truth,
craving for affirmation,
ardor for sharing,
the making of love,
and the ecstasy of surrender.
I would be in
every form of hurting
and its transcendence.
I would be gleamed
in lowly favors, generosity,
courage, simplicity, compassion
but especially
in forgiveness.
I would be aborning ever new
in the bruised and lonely heart.
I would be found more
in doubt than in certainty
more in questioning than
in righteousness.
I would need to be
intimately concealed
because the human ego
is so ready to use Me
to elevate itself
by judging others.
Were I God I would enjoy
leaving clues, riddles
and traces everywhere,
being tracked only
by valiant searchers.
I would let myself be glimpsed
in sunrises and sunsets
in the wonders of nature
in human loving
in quiet stillness and
becoming little
in EVERY human story.
Christmas, 1991, Paschal Bernard Baute
No comments:
Post a Comment