In my twenties I said to God:
“I can’t stand it when I don’t feel Your love.
It’s horrible, depressing, I ache and . . .”
He interrupts,
“Would you rather be tortured
starving homeless crippled abused
blind or terminally ill?
“But Lord”, I say, “that is exactly what it feels like.”
God sighed,
“My son, what do you think brings me closer?”
I know something about some things very little of many things and reserve my greatest ignorance for understanding love, myself and human motivation How’s that for shingles of flimsy wisdom on a house
Amber’s death triggered 14 days of torment her presence still felt on the sofa the bed at the door when I came home presenting her brown head and a swinging tail the disconnect to the physical a slaug
we have mountains so gentle they caress water from the eyes others that blow up and spew death to those drawn to that charm rains that can mist leaves gloriously shiny or rip trees out by the roots an