God said, “I made you only so you would obey me.”
His voice was something you didn’t hear so much
as feel rumbling in your bones, and sometimes it
made you feel so shaky you could hardly stay standing.
And you and I learned how to fear God,
how to do everything we had to to get by and then
hide our faces, be quiet quiet, and then when we knew
God wasn’t looking we would act it all out on our toys
that weren’t meant for the games we played.
You used to cry more than I did. You were younger.
But not all the tears were sad. Sometimes our
spirits caught fire and we cried because everything was
holy, holy, holy
and we didn’t notice yet how that just meant full of holes.
We didn’t know who God was, even though we already
called him Father. Didn’t know enough to call him Dad.
“Our Father who art standing in the living room with a horse whip,
David be thy name.”
And we prayed for peace.
