One Sunday
I went looking for god
in a 100-year-old church
and heard her
in the soloist wrapped
in an Italian aria,
in the blonde woman
who offered a name,
a city she left,
a place she’s settled.
I found god in words
of a visiting minister
speaking of imagination
using Minecraft
illustrations,
in a middle-aged
greeter wearing a Sunday
smile and plaid Bermudas,
inside heavy doors flung wide
open for many
out of step
sleepless
raging
discouraged.
I found her in slender
swaying bamboo
watching us through three
gothic windows
stretching leaves toward the heavens.
4 thoughts on "One Sunday"
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God comes in many forms as you revealed.
Oh so lovely, especially the bamboo at the end.
That last verse. <3
lovely
love the swaying bamboo and the Gothic windows
and the searching watchfulness