They tell me to read the Bible
sit down and hold my thumbs
Breathe long deep breaths
and listen to a God who is close.
They say they talk to him daily
they feel His presence like so much wind
They hear His plan for them.
And so I sit cross-legged
and cross-armed on this dirty carpet
my Bible opened to Job
my eyes closed and my
breathes long, slow as the Nile
And I don't her Him
and I don't ever hear Him
and I don't know if my
stillness is not still enough
or if he forgot to show
leaving me alone
a handful of thumbs
1 comment:
Hey the latest glenn! Great poem. I'm absolutely loving your recent stuff. I keep trying to call you to figure out what the "thumbs" reference means, but maybe I'll try hitting you up at glenn@tamu.edu
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