An Open Letter to God

i silently rail
at your quiet

i quake inwardly
at your omnipresence

i cannot reconcile the two:
why are we left

to destroy each other
with stories about you?

why are we made too loud
to hear your deafening quiet?

i wait to be pierced with certainty,
and yet i already know:

you are as evident and intangible
as breath,

certain as gravity,
as flammable as fear.

if we were any more certain,
we would cease to be.

why must we teeter toward you,
dancing on our wire,

shouting blood
shaking fists

sobbing, uncertain,
knowing and not knowing,

desperate for company
we cannot have,

imprisoned in this hermitage
to which we cannot return?

i rise toward you from the kingdom
of the unjust

i howl at you
from the crypt of compassion

i tear at your robe
with my teeth

deranged by
tsunamis of suffering.

Tell me:
if i seal myself in quiet,

will you come?

if i tune my soul
to your voice,

will you speak?

Will i finally

--Mr. Gobley

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