Easter
Sometimes I remember the world is just a mirror showing me my real face. The sunrise my eyes. Clouds my hair. Birds my fingertips feeling the wall for a light switch in the dark. Cars zooming on the highway like erythrocytes rushing to deliver everything they have to whatever needs it. God is the face on the other side of the two way mirror looking at me. He touches his birds with divine hands. Brushes the clouds from the sky. Discovers a vast arboreal wilderness now lashed with arteries of blood. If I focus properly— really pay attention— I get this unsettling feeling of being watched. I stare into the middle distance. But I can’t see anything. I never can. God gazes upon the sun, rising again.
4/2/24
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