Glimpsing God

When I am alone
     when I let go of my doing
          and sink into my being
Sometimes I hear a whisper
     of my now and not yet
Maybe it's just a glimpse
     of the Almighty's back
I see it in the luminous hummingbird
     who regards me briefly with his black eye
          then is gone
It's in the stars at midnight
     and in the candle's flickering glow
I taste it in the honeycomb
     its golden, sticky sweetness filling my mouth
It's there in the faces of children
     who smile with such trust and expectation
In the welcoming pant of a dog
     waiting for a ball to be thrown
In the vulnerable little chin
     of a kitten longing to be stroked
         So unguarded
What would it be like
     to live in the world
          lit with such open radiance?
To let the armor fall
     even down to the last modest fig leaf
          and stand there naked and unashamed?
It seems an unattainable mirage
     a castle on a mountain far away
And yet, can it be true?
     -- there, just there --
          Didn't I react with more grace and trust
               than my normal grasping self?
Can it be that simply dwelling and beholding
     has the power to transform the beholder
          into the Beloved?
It's crumbs from His table
     very partial, intermittent and still imperfect
But God is so vast
     that crumbs from His table
          make a banquet indeed

by Celeste Boudreaux, November 2019

Next post: Winter Solstice Pantoum

%d bloggers like this: