“Strike a match, and watch it burn”

Strike a match, and watch it burn

I woke up last Thursday

and my entire image of God 

had changed, not all at once

but completely.

God, the word, is a piece of slick paper

my soul cannot grip any longer.

God had always been something–Someone–

I prayed to, but now, somehow,

God was something–somewhere, even–

I pray from.

Such a deep awareness

empties me out of whatever

had filled me in the moment

just before this one.

Now, I sit quietly as the birds sing 

the day into life.

Water pours through cupped hands, and

what is left open can be filled–

emptied of what,

and filled with what?

These are the questions I carry gently,

a fragile creature I could crush

in one thoughtless moment of grasping.

Take the prayer card out of your pocket,

strike a match, and light it on fire.

Watch the flame dance; only then

does it become truly alive.



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