My heart clashes with a god that transcends
as in, ‘rises above’
the body. this mess we’re in. your pain or mine.
I find little hope in a god who took on flesh,
only to later leave it behind.
But tell me again of that divine breath –
the one that animates soil,
and shapes life from the dirt.
Call me back to the roots of this faith.
Though I bow my head,
I do no solemn submitting to any power on high.
I lower my gaze in prayer to the deep.
I seek the wisdom of holy kin, closest to the ground.
Those who make feasts of life’s remnants,
live out miracles of integration,
and bear witness to the glory of the dark.
There are too many lights on all the time
and all the tall towers grow more fragile each day.
So I rest my hope in the god of the below,
whose embrace has always been with us.
Theirs is a transcendence
that never leaves us behind,
but always promises to fold us in.
m jade kaiser