And What of God?
God had nothing to do with the sepia portrait
of a long-haired, muslin-wearing stranger
hung on the wall of my grandmother’s bedroom
behind a hall tree of polyester pants and spent undergarments
who looked akin to my father and Uncle Ronnie. God
was not in the torturously stiff pews of the Congo church on Sundays,
not in the names used in vain followed by mouthfuls of soap.
God was not in the space between folded fingers, not
in the cupped prints elbows leave on the edge of a bed,
not in the clutching hour before slumber,
but in the white belly of a trout, in the elusive bobbed-tailed
doe disappearing through dark green, a pale salamander
under the silk of wet moss. God lived in the slippery space
between the pine and its bark, in the music of water
over the spillway. God, neither Green Man or Mother Nature,
but some combination of both—leaves growing where pubic hair
should be. God was me. God, numb and naked
in a thunderous spring stream. There was no book, no word, no voice—
just a dome of sky and the endless reaching.
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Very nice imagery. I like how this is separated into two parts; the first being of worldly, material things and the second the wonders of nature. They are very different, but I think that they contrast with each other very well.
ReplyDeleteThe only line I am slightly confused about is line 4 "behind a hall tree of polyester pants and spent undergarments." What is a hall tree or should there be some sort of punctuation there?
Thanks Josh. A Hall tree is a coat rack.
ReplyDeleteHaha, wow. That makes sense.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this piece. I agree-- your imagery is very strong and vivid. The rhythm of the lines is solid as well... for example: doe disappearing through dark green-- the alliteration is subconsciously delicious. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting this.
I love the whole concept of this piece. It is as if we are searching along with you through these everyday yet forgotten places and then in the nooks of nature.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite line is the last one: "There was no book, no word, no voice—
just a dome of sky and the endless reaching."
I like how this ends the poem as well as the contrast between these tangible familiar things and the then the image of something much greater than us.