Distant

 

I can't see you, can't touch you
can't breathe, because without you --

but I'm never without you. Even
when all I am is ache.

Especially then. Press my fingers
to the delicate bones of my wrist

and there you are, accompanying me
with every beat of my yearning heart.

 

 

I can't offer a citation for the idea that God is as close to us as the rhythm of our own hearts, but it is a teaching from which I draw substantial comfort. Sometimes the distance between us feels unbearable, and then I remember it's illusion and there isn't really any distance between us at all.

This is the latest poem in my Texts to the Holy series.

Shabbat shalom to all who celebrate.