Maybe God Is a Wedding Singer

Maybe God Is a Wedding Singer

(“And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. It was prepared like a bride dressed for her husband.” Revelation 21:2)

Maybe God is a wedding singer
with down-turned lips that remind you
of Elvis.

Maybe God is a caller for square-dancers
learning their steps weekly on
Tuesday evenings.

Maybe God is a redheaded child
wearing her jeans with rips in the knees,
looking like a spinning top in the rain.

Maybe God is a swarm of bees
looking to hive and
start up with nectar and golden honey.

Maybe God has been here from the middle
working out to the edges of our
limited imaginations.

Maybe God is sitting next to the toddler
taking his first turn on the swings
in the park.

Maybe God is in the shadows while
I sit like a dog
in the sun.

Maybe God is in the light while I
walk in the shade of
cedars and firs.

Maybe God is in a
lover’s first kiss or
in an elder’s last sigh.
Maybe God doesn’t think about this,
Maybe God couldn’t care why.

Maybe you’ll call me mad,
maybe a heretic,
surely I can stand under the protection
of all the kneeling I’ve inherited.

Maybe God is a welder
sealing joints that are broken.
Maybe God is a dozen words
that sound from the songs deep in the canyon,
the lyrics silent and unspoken.

Maybe God is a waltz,
maybe a grass dance,
maybe God ignores our faults,
maybe a second chance.

Maybe I’m talking out of turn,
maybe I read too much,
maybe you don’t understand yet
that this is poetry and maybe
God is the eternal rhyme that teaches
lions and lambs to play together.