“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it, we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely ... I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is every- where.”
― Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
Surprising God, how does one surprise God?
I have heard the door or gate is not locked; it is always open.
Every day I think of Mike,
he told me about the river boat he was on,
the murky river water, many small boats alongside,
action all around. He was a sailor on a ship,
what the hell was he doing on a river boat,
he often asked, even now.
Can’t remember the name of the river,
but it was Nam…
You come home from war… you are different now.
No one seems to know that, “but glad your back bro,” they say. Yes, you are home, but then there is the addiction, not of killing but of forgetting.
The time comes to report, remembering one’s service, out in the woods, away from it all.
There is that standing at attention, hair and beard trimmed, at muster for the last time…
There was a strange silence afterwards,
How does one surprise God?
I have heard the door or gate is not locked; it is always open.
I am a vet from the Vietnam Era. This poem came point of a personal experience and loss.
