Then the Lord stretched out His hand and touched my mouth, and the Lord said to me, “Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.”
- Holy Bible, Jeremiah 1: 9
Dear
God.
Once I thought I knew.
I thought that voice was You.
But now, who?
One very important question,
It’s not simple.
The answer won’t come easy
As two and two.
I am no prophet,
No Jeremiah, no saint.
(Hell, if you know me,
Then you know me through
And through.)
But let’s put it
Hypothetically.
If you knew me before
I grew,
Before I was born,
Before toes and fingers sprouted in stumps,
Before the bloody embryonic lump,
Before generations of generations of befores,
Before all of this and more,
Who was the me You knew?
Was it that you shaped and saw
My future in a crystal ball?
No, I don’t think you’d find that
Much surprising.
It’s the wording that troubles me.
“Knew.”
Were you my familiar then?
Did we chat comfortably like friends?
Will some forgotten memory
Of sacramental toast and tea
Return to me upon waking from this mortal sleep?
Irreverent,
Blasphemous though it seems,
I’m altogether honest.
The road to Mount Olympus is steep.
The world of the living
Feels less and less a dream.
At night the streetlights
Flicker red and green.
I stare out into empty fields
Where the rain sleeps in watches
And squats on heavy haunches
And laps up a quiet drink.
I stare and think
And pretend not to think.
You’ll keep a light on
In case I decide to come back in.
