OMNI-PRESENCE
Photo by Basil Smith on Unsplash. Image description: photo of grass and flowers taken from ground level, with light refracted through drops of rain.
I saw God in a mirror once
when stepping out of a shower but was afraid to make eye contact
lest the skin melt from my bones or (heaven forbid)
I liked what I saw.
God is a capital G
or maybe only when creating me,
otherwise God operates in lowercase
like when walking with me when my family buried Grandma Tilly
or when I ran 6 blocks from Ivy Hill Park from a group of teens.
God is a security blanket
or a whisper of safety and possibility.
There are times when God is timeless,
a stalled stopwatch in-between moments and millenia,
allowing enough sabbath in to shine a light on creation.
Connecting ancestors to offspring,
ancient deja va to tomorrow’s rendezvous. I’m thinking God is spelled with a knowing snicker.
She’s funny most of the time,
sharing knowing glances and offering heavy shade and eyerolls at dogma.
I usually forget that God knows me and He will never leave me or forsake me.
Most of the time, God is spelled with a capital “O”
which means i glimpse eternity and beyond in the naked arms of my lover, lost in the forever of a
mutual climax,
more than bodies but tethered by flesh, coated in our bodies’ nectars, dripping from a tree of
knowledge. God is the peace after we cum.
I think God likes me and not in a pandering or pitying way
but more like a delight
or the squint at dawn’s first light.
God is a proud student
showing off the rough sketches of me to the stars and streams and sounds of the nebula
God is a proud artist, a backpack mumble rap punk rocker
God is a drag queen singing “come on home”
God is in the wind’s dance, the guitar lick in Carl Thomas’ “Summer Rain”
She lives in the benevolent response to the tears of Palestinian widow
He is The Advocate singing “ceasefire now”, barely muffled by an embroidered keffiyeh
They live in the raspy rafters where grace and justice dwell, singing a freedom song.
I’ve spent too many years spelling God after a family member, an Uncle named S-A-M but the letters
feel funny on my tongue and I don’t like the taste of apple pie as much as I like a Newberry sweet
potato pie
God laughs at the idea of His son being blonde haired and blue eyed
(you ain’t finna play on Mary’s Son like his locs weren’t swangin’)
God is not insecure
But he is sure to make sure you know her name
Her name is Equinox and Solstice
Her name is metamorphosis and root
Her name is the laughter at a family reunion before the food but after the spades game
God isn’t worried about what you call them
As long as you put some respect on their name
Call him Jehovah Nissi
Call him the yelp and holler of a new babe
Call them omnipotent and a sweet rosè
God, my God is big and beautiful,
a nooks and crannies deliverance,
worthy of a shared love and glory and
“Glory to Glory to Glory to Glory to Glory to Glory to God”.
