I met god...

Written April 2024

Notes: N/A

I met god and It seemed to be fish. God looked like parking lots and streetlights and death glimpsed in a dream. I met god and It was a deer with white eyes, lonely and weeping; a cow with two faces; a kitten with one eye. I met god in a shared orange, and the smoke trails above trees, and the houses lining the stomach of the valley. I saw god among circles of colorful people, they were dancing and they were interlocked, beating to drums made of meat. And I asked god why She made church hymns so sad, why dirt was unwanted, the smear of sweat served on the brow. I met god and He held the lamb of his own creation, with the face of the elephant and jackal, snake that swallows the world. He said that He forgives me and that His blood runs so cold, echoed by night winds, love in wheat and fruit. I met god at the end of a small journey, a poem about the universe, love and constellations. As I was thanked, She held my head in Her palms and kissed my sorry face, She ran water and oil through my hair. God was a block of text and a picture, lines of code in a frame. God was the quiet spoken word, hush-hush, mother and coffee. God was close-eyed worship, open-eyed defiance, botanical and ashy. God was a red light and cardboard boxes, and god was wild horses and broken clay bowls. I met god and It was a long-legged thing carrying babies, a winding yellow victor, a dashboard, a car, a building, graffiti, and small death and subway stations. Rats and ocean and the power of the moon, a lighthouse and music and numbers and hands, and emails and dogs with teeth and poems online and claustrophobic colors and blindness and clouds and stone towers and cities and marshes and farms and soil and siblings and heavy, drowning guilt. God was a ribcage and god was a vineyard, a bridge when it rained and a small public library and rags and dishes and breakfast eggs and fingernail clippings and the glare of sunlight and sewers and cattle and screaming and trumpets and ghosts and windows and so far away. God was seabirds on the deck of a ship, it had wings made of candles and the space between stars. God gave me carrots and berries, bread and meat. God held my hand and cried with me. I met god, and it was so funny, because god looked exactly like You.