There’s Milk In The Fridge.
Show yourself, Lord!
Why do you hide from me?
You are not the mouse lurking in darkness’s corners,
squealing at my claps and steps.
Show yourself.
Stand in the room’s middle.
Announce yourself sweet in that great voice of yours.
From when and why did my father,
the creator of the universe, become a coward?
Why do you hide your face as if covered in blemish and boil?
Why run from my and across my mind
when the only tracks available are
glued to my scalp?
Wherefore art thou God?
Is the presence so great thou canst not stand before me?
Is thy form so ineffable you dare not flaunt by palpable existence?
Is thy spirit so potent it may knock my own out of place?
Is thy hand so forceful bones would crunch upon holding?
Is digest so big my head would get lost in its vastness?
Where are you father?
We have plenty of milk at home. Sucked from my
mother‘s own breast, I can only hope to gain
the nutrients of faith she holds so dearly.
Why have you hidden from me? I am not
unworthy of your presence, of your love,
of your consideration.
Is thine nose so high you wince at my whiff?
Are thine eyes so blue I shall drown to look into?
Are your feet so pristine that
you cannot fathom the path of my shoes?
Can you not walk where I walk?
Beside me? In front of me? Behind me?
If not, permission granted to stand on
my head top and lead a more dignified way.
Where art thou cloth of such quality
that it cannot be used to dry my face?
Do thy knees hurt? And pop so much that it is
difficult to bend down to meet me where I am?
You know well where I reside. If my home
be unbecoming, I will be at the park tomorrow
at noon. Please meet me on the bench
between the tennis court and the water.
And Lord, if your presence be so great,
so vast, so clean, so important, and worthy
that I do not have the pleasure of seeing your
face then Lord, please come to me as that
mouse, avoidant of traps yet squealing
so incessantly that I know it is you.
Jump onto my bed and tickle
my face with your whiskers.
Lord, please.
Why do you hide from me?
Why do you deny me your comfort?
Snuggle up under my covers, Lord
and I will be sure to pick up the traps in the morning.
Thank you.
Do you shine so bright that I might be blinded by your light?
Are my shoulders so broad
you might break your finger from a tap?
Is my mouth so wide I may never not tout about your beauty?
Am I so pathetic you snicker as I call your name?
Do not be ashamed of your greatness,
in my lack thereof. I can handle it.
We look just alike.
Is your voice so booming? I might go deaf at the parting of your lips?
Who am I to request such a grand presence?
But I am nobody,
Nobody but your daughter.
And that should count for something.
For I was not made by accident nor on a whim. You knew me
before I entered my mother’s womb. You know me
before my mother had a womb. Yet you leave me
in the like, sloshing around in my own waters,
drowning in my own nutrients. I ask, cut open her womb
and envelope me in your hands. Let me feel
the warmth and solidity of your touch,
of your life that I may carry on with fervor. Push in
my button that your wisdom
lie in its swirls. Grant me the feeling of your love.
Break down my walls, this façade of strength,
throw stones at the bricks and even if such
pelts my being at least I know you want me too.
Let the snake not bite my tongue so
I can always call on your name. Jesus!
Let not the snake’s tail whip your skin
that you are ashamed to come to me
with marks.
How well is the father that does not visit his children?
Who does not reside in the home his children stay?
There is plenty of milk in the fridge. The store
does not require another male looking to satisfy
the needs of his family when
all satisfaction can be fulfilled through presence.
My head hurts and my heart is numb,
yet neither have hardened to the idea of you.
Lord, you are capable and wanted.
Ground.
