The Face of God

Leaving behind the reckless ties of this world,
he’s staked his survival
on nothing but his stomach—
its crooked, endlessly coiling growth,
its dreams,
 
its slow slips in the hush of sunlight’s grace,
alongside the rush and shout of air
that chased me through free,
empty streets
after I’d left my home behind.
 
Above—
a long, enchanted, burning full moon,
a wind-shiver at the summit of its height,
found by chance in its frugal generosity.
 
And in that silence,
the lifted heart is sacred—
have faith,
as the trees do,
that with only sunlight and water
one can live.
 
In unbroken trust
in the power of God,
a full stomach,
each faint breath
meets release
by touching the very face of God.
 
And then,
with quickened steps,
he passes through the bindings
of this world.