Each month, write a new collection.
This comment has been removed by the author.
It started when I heard angels. in the darkIn the pink bedroom in ManhattanSinging like in the Hansel and Gretel Opera Watching those abandoned children in the forest.Then the Kotel before I converted— how that wall moved me towards itSurrounded by mobs of people in JerusalemAnd only my orthodox sister in law who had told myHusband not to marry me years before— she was the one who got what was happening —As so many bobbed and weaved intoned prayers Whose language I didn’t And don’t Understand But then there wasnothing. I stopped believing and there was flat death and the grotesquerie of bodies in coffinstil earlier this year at the unitarian church inRiverside — my dead parents saying I’m here and myGrandmother saying I’m here too. We’re here in this placeWhere all things are accepted, where you recognize the hymnThat you sang at school. We’re hereWith the homeless lady sitting in the back with all her cats And with the punk couple that just wandered in.We’re here and we’ll always be here and we never leftEven though you couldn’t hear usWhich reminds me, last fall — the giant buddha carved into the rockAt Laitan and the incense sticks being lit, and these youngPeople showing me how to do the prostrations and pointingOut the sculptures of Kwan Yin that I recognized fromMy grandparents’ house when I was a child.Someone showed me how to tie a red ribbon aroundA branch on a tree. You wish for something, the young guy said —I tied the red strip on, and what I wished for was toBelieveIn somethingAnd to once again hear voices telling me I had notBeen left aloneIn the Forest.
Spiritual JourneyMy GodWhere art thou?When men are menand rape and plunderRob and maimWhen peaceseems years awayeven decades from fruitionA wise man once saidIt is His Willwhen our own free will gives medoubtas to the purpose and ultimate care we should expect in the form ofBlessingWhen death seems so casual When gangsAnd diabolical regimesare permitted to cause shootingsWars and genocideMy grief bears no resemblance to a faithMy purpose is onlyto sayI am alive and believeIn nothing morethan a God forgottenA paradise lostIn the shuffle of humanityand the random acts of men to destroy something BeautifulMy free willThe freedom we choose to do What is not rightI feel God is still hereHe has a planIt is writtenA documentof faithOf traditionBut my religionhas disappearedMy faith is a hopeA shimmer of lightStill in the heartOf my waitingfor His returnA great momentwhen all menRealize Truth
I really like the lines: I feel God is still hereHe has a planIt is writtenA documentof faithOf traditionBut my religionhas disappearedthose really work for me