Retribution

 
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Once

I thought I saw God

while driving through Omaha, Nebraska

prisms of light shining,

but it was just a halo

in my rear view mirror,

the sun gleaming through droplets of rain

after a fierce thunderstorm.

I sought God many times

especially when I lay down to sleep

praying different ways

like a sycophant’s attempt

to gain access through pearly gates,

winking at Saint Peter

and handing over cash.

Instead of answers

I would wake up the next morning

with a slight hangover

from too much red wine,

blood that dripped

from my hands and feet.

Now, I seek God

in the aroma of jasmine

in a kind old woman’s face

or in the liquid eyes

of a cocker spaniel.

As I slipped into yellow moods

reflected off glassy ponds,

I found disappointment

from lies I was told

when I was a wee boy.

A nun once declared

I was going to Hell

because I would not participate

in Communion.

The bread, the body of Christ

was a tablet

that tasted like paste

if you chewed it.

And a minister remarked

that if I dare enter another church,

the cathedral would topple

and I would perish in the rubble.

It was this same man

whose hand got slapped

by Mother

when he fondled her behind.

So when I see brothers, sisters

felled mercilessly in their prime,

I simply ask why.

What lesson may I learn?

That life is fleeting?

To take advantage of the joyous journey?

I know these things.

Perhaps experiences are random

and luck plays a significant role

like losing that winning lottery ticket.

We manage to survive

trauma, technology terrorists,

even God herself

assuming she exists.

I jump on the carousel

spin round and round and round

afraid to jump off

for fear of landing in some inferno,

flames that reach the sky

burning me like a marshmallow

over a blaze that is too hot,

taking all of me

and my history with it

with questions that remain unaswered,

contemplation for survivors

in this mad, mad world.