So Live

By John Blase | July 23, 2012 |

Sometimes, when I’m sitting alone out

back in a fractured adirondack chair

and shadowed aspens are quaking ever

so slightly, I wonder if God ever searched

for his parents, ever wonders where did

God come from? Ever wonders what do

stories do when they’re not being told?

I’m forty-five and afraid of nothing but

suffocating in the fluff of bruised clouds

that feel closer each evening, that seem

to roll in with unbridled brisk. But just

as I begin to panic they always relent

and the night rubs star upon star in

my anxious eyes and I remember all I

must do is breathe in and breathe out,

for mercy triumphs over judgment and

unless we are insensitive we know our

own weather. God can take care of himself.

So live.