‘Do not hide Your face from me, Do not turn Your servant away in agner; You have been my help; Do not abandon me nor forsake me, o God of my salvation!’
Why did you turn your face from me?—
Back in the playground,
I was a child. You held me,
handless; kissed me,
lipless; loved me,
You must have been watching. Why then,
let me sit alone in the swing, the water, the night?
I asked you for three leaves
from the trees that grow from your earth.
me, myself and I;
father son spirit;
you, me God. Instead,
you gave me a bench filled with
When I reached out to touch you, you were gone.
Perhaps, I have fallen in love with the feeling of being lost.
In the night, I see nothing. I do not try to search. I feel the pavement under my feet.
I know no one is thinking of me. And so, I am thoughtless, imperceivable untouchable, unknowable.
Perhaps I hide my face from you because I do not want you to look at me. I am too used to hands that do not know how to touch me, words that do not reach me, faces that I do not recognise.
The mud falls into whatever shape it does. The water will seep through loose spaces, separating, dripping from one hole to the next. This will happen again and again, until it flows from river to lake to ocean. The sea will turn into the sky.
A child would reach out his small, dimpled hands and think ‘how blue, how beautiful, how happy’.
Perhaps I like the sky too much. There is nothing to be seen or discerned, it just is.