by Reed Whittemore
The Lord feeds some of His prisoners better than others.
It could be said of Him that He is not a just god but an indifferent god.
That He is not to be trusted to reward the righteous and punish the unscrupulous.
That He maketh the poor poorer but is otherwise undependable.
It could be said of Him that it is His school of the germane that produced the
Congressional Record.
That it is His vision of justice that gave us cost accounting.
It could be said of Him that though we walk with Him all the days of our lives we
will never fathom Him
Because He is empty.
These are dark images of our Lord
That make it seem needful for us to pray not unto Him
But ourselves.
But when we do that we find that indeed we are truly lost
And we rush back into the safer fold, impressed by His care for us.
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I first read this poem last year when my friend Brittany lent me Good Poems by Garrison Keilor. I wondered then and I wonder often where Reed was at when he wrote this, and where he is now. If he's agnostic, or bewildered, and the healthy balance of naivety and doubt, honesty, and searching.
1 comment:
Trina, I love this poem! and not in the way I like most things (that being, because of it´s hopefulness. haha.) It´s so honest it hurts. But that also, I guess, gives me hope, that we can talk about stuff that´s hard and painful and unaccepted and still, fighting, survive it.
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