In the dawn
I dreamt of God.
He was riding a bicycle,
His strong hands on the handlebars fiercely,
The rest of him floating, billowing out
like a great sail or a ghost.
I thought he did not know where
He was headed,
Or much cared for that matter,
But one thing was certain:
He was never letting go.
He took no note of me,
Hurtling on,
Singular, determined,
Like a frightened parent
Summoned in the night
To unknown heartache.
In the morning
I awoke,
And fell in love with him
All over again.
The God of Morning
Show Comments (
)
Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.
The latest from america
Age and its relationship to stardom is the animating subject of “Sunset Blvd,” “Tammy Faye” and “Death Becomes Her.”
What separates “Bonhoeffer” from the myriad instructive Holocaust biographies and melodramas is its timing.
“Wicked” arrives on a whirlwind of eager (and anxious) anticipation among fans of the musical.
A touring relic will give the faithful in Washington and seven states a rare opportunity to venerate St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the greatest Christian theologians.