January 13, 2005

poem #350,623 about god or something like it

By Tony Brown

In response to a request from ocvictor.

my One is one
i’m unafraid of — while the works
sometimes leave me breathless with
anxiety or awe
i am never so frightened
that i cannot see clearly past to
the new work

for static is not
the name of my One

in my house there are
real doubts and false certainties
that do not change
but the One moves among them and
while nothing disappears
it does diminish

for magic is not
the face of my One

the street exhales despair
when i step off the curb past
the unwanted who are sleeping
off the stale breath of the city
and the One hovers
warm above them with odd grace
dispensing free passes, relief,
hard soothsaying
and there is an explanation
i may not understand now
but believe i’ll
know someday

for deception is not
the face of my One

a woman holds herself strong
because there is a right
not to be simply a waiting vessel
and the pair who love well
love as the One loves
without qualification

and just when it seems that there is no One

when a passion play swallows a nation
a cross falls on a crescent
a crescent draws a bead on a cross
a star smashes a child
or a child bombs a star

the One says,

even as it is
pain or ecstasy,
just and cruel or
love and soft

even as it is, it is also not —
no state of being exists
that is blasphemous

my One
is not a limit

About Tony Brown

Unknown's avatar
A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown
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