CALL ME BELOVED

The pastor asked us to imagine god
bigger than the stories we were told –
take god out of the box, decide our own
motives, limitations, creations, flaws –
make god as big or as small as we’d like.

I imagine god was that neighbor who
lifted the bike off of my body, after he
watched me thrown down and beaten
by bullies from the park – straightened
my handlebars and pointed me home –

I think god was there when my son was born.
Happiness miles, years, and forever away, so
somebody had to hold all of that joy, the love
flooding that hospital room when I could not –
somebody had to welcome that baby home.

God was there in the dorm room, in the car,
god was with us in the bedroom, on the stairs –
behind me in the kitchen; held my heaving back
while I cried, and I cried, and I cried – god made
sure when we were together, we were home, and

the truth is simple and lonely. God is inside us
and only comes out when we forget ourselves;
god is the surrender, the last serving of dinner
placed on another’s plate, the sobbing shoulders,
the waking up, the trying again to make it home.