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.

Author: Patricia Mitchell Lapidus

Anyone may walk down the road wondering who we are, how we are supposed to live, and what happens when we die. Some folks like traditional answers. Some folks don't want to spent their time thinking too much. I felt called upon to search these questions in depth and in some surprising places. Each of my books is a story or group of stories about what I found during a wide-ranging journey. My home state of Maine was a hard place to leave. But I knew I had to go. And if I didn't make it back home to Maine except to visit, I did find home in the comfort and joy of discoveries that washed away the pain that had started me on my travels.

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