I went to church again today Looking for You.

I bent my head and tried to pray And sing too

In vain. I nowhere see or hear Or feel or taste You.

Whatever else may not be clear This is true.

The sermon stuttered past my ears.

The young man spoke of sex and God

The woman laughed and shook her flowers

And gave them to the children.

Give them away she laughed, away, and God will love You

(No, she didn't say that but did imply...)

And this one's lost its head she laughed,

But it's all right

And one stiff little girl poked me in the back

With a drooping red sunflower with a black heart & Crumpled purple leaves.


Now You were there with her, she saw You,

And You were speaking to the boy about the Song of Songs,

Thighs, breasts and bellies tumbled from his lips, Your lips, I guess,

Dead flowers danced down the aisles,

Swollen hydrangea and one blighted rose.

(Adam gave the flowers each a name, You gave him Permission)


Did You see me leave? Breathe hard amongst the Plastic roses, return to sing Your praises?

, There was a woodwind quintet that played with us. And a tentative organ.

One more prayer,

One more hymn about flowers and thighs,

Then out into the sunshine, and home.

In the afternoon I went into my garden.

Dug stones, ripped sod, spread compost.

Dirt under my torn nails, salt in mouth.

Rescued strangling peonies from beneath a fir tree, Clipped them severely and gave them new beds. Ran cold water over their raw roots.

Now it's dark. Outside they stir in pain

Perhaps in sorrow. Perhaps the compost soothes Them, the memory of water.

I moved them for their own good, I say

They'll live and flourish.

Maybe it's true. I hope it is.

I've meddled a lot. Mostly for glory.

But not Yours. Because I can't find You.

K. P. September 3, 2000