Daily Archives: October 12, 2016

If (Mother Of Moons)

If a window opens in a wall
where there has never been a window.

If you are standing there at that moment
and watch it open.

If a second or so before that
you fuzz out and cannot afterward describe how it happened.

If no bricks appear to have been displaced
by the appearance of the window.

If no sound accompanied
the appearance of the window.

If you do not show amazement
or fear upon the opening of the new window.

If the opening of the new window
seems as normal to you as the breathing of your newborn.

If you hold your newborn up to the window
to let them see the moon.

If you hold the moon up to the newborn window
and let it shine, shine, shine.

If you look out the window
and observe a maze of walls, windows, light from other moons.

If you recognize that none of the walls and windows
look anything like your own.

If the light from the other moons
changes you.

If you begin to call yourself
Mother of Moons.

If you have always been this 
yet are naming this for the first time.

If you go out 
to seek other windowless walls.

If you stand in front of them
until they change.

If every examined wall
becomes a window.

If all the windows
spring open at once.


The Search For God

People I know and love
kept saying there was no God.
I didn’t buy it. Could have sworn 
I met God once or twice.

I went over to the former God-place.
No one was home. I let myself
in. Looked through scattered papers
for a current address. Admired

some old family photos. There was a lot
of unopened mail piled up under the slot,
though not as much as you might expect.
Nothing offered a clue as to

the present whereabouts of God. I did see
an oak tree failing out back, a garden
of dried-up stems, a pile of brush
by a cold circle of ash. Began to realize

that God must have moved on long ago from
such settled addresses. Maybe God
bought an RV on credit and took up
a nomadic lifestyle, campground

to campground, put faith in
long ribbons of road under holy black wheels
in pursuit of happiness. Maybe no one
had ever offered God happiness. Come to think of it

God was never smiling when I ran across them
on those strange occasions when we met.
There was a grimness to those
moments. I was unsettled. Perhaps 

God was as well. I don’t blame God 
for putting distance between us,
now that I recollect that appalling neediness.
I cannot imagine how long I’d stand for that.

I left the former house of God and walked
a long way down the road seeking their tracks
until I came to my senses.  Let God be happy,
I decided. If I believe anything, I believe

they’ve earned a right to restlessness
in the face of our constant pressure — 
and I’ve got a home of my own. So
I turned back.