It’s easy to say what I don’t believe in anymore – an all-knowing grandfather God who sits on a cloud somewhere up there, out there, distant but keeping an eye on everything, delivering rewards and punishments,, and upsetting things here on earth with what we call “acts of God.” But then people ask me, “So what kind of God do you believe in?” And I find prose can’t do it; poetry at least comes closer. 

 Faces  talk around a table

knees warm around a campfire

voices sing in a circle

hands clasp in the darkness

and in between, among, around them

hovers a shining....