TO LET THE GOD OUT
I’ve known some small miracles, so I’ll listen.
The god sitting up in the dark cave,
an angel folding the shroud and giving that pat
of reassurance, then moving the dense stone,
stepping lightly aside to let the god out.
I’d ask how this (among so many) became
the important miracle, the one dividing insiders
from includers. An old tune taunts,
One door and only one, and yet the sides are two.
I’m on the inside, on which side are you?
I’d pinch myself—though as to that, I’ve traveled
enough to know a pinch is felt in a dream
and in memory. Thomas stands where earth
overlaps heaven. The not gone god pulls him close,
says, “Feel, feel the flesh of which you are fond.”
Well, I’ve listened. But I think they hid the god
somewhere while he healed from those hours
on the cross—and when he was well he began
a second trip to the East. This time he stayed.
Gifts from Away 