ON HOLY GROUND
They say to look upon God’s face
Would be unbearable
We would be blinded by light
Then I have died a thousand times over
I have burnt at the stake of existence
All images of myself have melted
And even that cannot be true
And I say ‘God’
But I have to laugh -
The word has lost all meaning
God is only a metaphor
For this fragile gift of a life
For this precious moment, unrepeatable
For this consciousness, unspeakable
For a familiar look on a stranger’s face
For those icy winter branches
For each footstep, falling
There is no unholy ground