It Is the Kiss of God

It Is the Kiss of God

(“Three times a day he got down on his knees, prayed, and gave thanks to his God, just as he had done before.” Daniel 6:10b)

Can you see the fusion between what is seen
and what lies beneath it all? I know it sounds
unusual,
I know it might seem absurd,
but there are more things richer in the
silence of things than in many words.

Even the hills in the distance with their cedars reaching
high
draw the slow clouds near until they are
two lovers with foreheads touching together,
and all I can tell you; it is the
kiss of God.

I have endless symbols at my disposal,
invented phrases and bright proposals to
lure the doves to the houses I’ve built for them
on the edges of my eaves.
I only wish I could coo the way they do,
I wish I could woo them to make their home
beside me.

I don’t mind saying that I’ve walked in darkness
far too often. And yet I had few who knew
how night-time fell around me like a cage,
like a cast-iron door welded across my forehead.
If I saw you coming up the driveway, I’d point you
toward the hills, up to the clouds,
and be tempted to escape backwards into the woods
at the back of my property.

Do you know what I mean? My own understanding has
crackled like a broken blister. My own longings are
mostly unanswered. Yet hope refuses to die. And it
is the only reason
I find time to pray between sentences written and
clouds unbidden.

More than anything I wish I could make the words sound
like the doves who sing their alluring songs. More than anything
I would like
another curious day watching the new moon fall on the
fog while we drink ferociously. We will sing jokingly
of the serious decades we spent only to land upon the
hills that kiss the sky barely halfway into the day.