When God strikes the birds awake

xiv. When God strikes the birds awake

When God strikes “awake”

It is a universe of birds who greet you.

admit I have not heard them even though

I have, but for the thunder in my head.

It has been my cloud of unknowing, my

Inner noise, and I have made the thunder

A god, false as this god be. The birds

Have blended in the bitter,

And in my darkness den, my rock hole cave,

In my vast valley hidden behind

Mountains, hunkered in fear, I

Have failed to distinguish

The songs

At that quiet hour

That greet the stars

And the snow.

I have failed to hear the birds

Even as they’re singing.

When God strikes the stars,

The birds awaken their chorus.

I emerge now, frightened I admit. Terrified.

But for the beautiful hand–long, delicate

Extending gentle arms in trustworthy touch

And your fingers on my shoulder

In my dim lit fire shadow–

And I must respond

Because

You

Are

Pulling

Me

Towards

A

Perfect

Light.

When God strums the mountain

The birds sit still.

I am outside now

And it is not scary.

Morning has broken

And I am stunned by the splendor

Of light and snow.

“Do not regret,” you tell me. “Do not

Regret where you have been.

This world is your home now. It

Always has been. You just didn’t know

Your home was bigger than the earth

Of your cave.”

When God whispers “I love you”

The birds erupt and sing “God does!”

And I lift my booted legs to follow you,

Putting my feet into the paths

Marked perfectly in snow.