Once
I thought I saw God
while driving through Omaha, Nebraska
prisms of light shining,
but it was just a halo
in my rear view mirror,
the sun gleaming through droplets of rain
after a fierce thunderstorm.

I sought God many times
especially when I lay down to sleep
praying different ways
like a sycophant’s attempt
to gain access through pearly gates,
winking at Saint Peter
and handing over cash.
Instead of answers
I would wake up the next morning
with a slight hangover
from too much red wine,
blood that dripped
from my hands and feet.

Now, I seek God
in the aroma of jasmine
in a kind old woman’s face
or in the liquid eyes
of a cocker spaniel.
As I slipped into yellow moods
reflected off glassy ponds,
I found disappointment
from lies I was told
when I was a wee boy.

A nun once declared
I was going to Hell
because I would not participate
in Communion.
The bread, the body of Christ
was a tablet
that tasted like paste
if you chewed it.

And a minister remarked
that if I dare enter another church,
the cathedral would topple
and I would perish in the rubble.
It was this same man
whose hand got slapped
by Mother
when he fondled her behind.

So when I see brothers, sisters
felled mercilessly in their prime,
I simply ask why.
What lesson may I learn?
That life is fleeting?
To take advantage of the joyous journey?
I know these things.
Perhaps experiences are random
and luck plays a significant role
like losing that winning lottery ticket.
We manage to survive
trauma, technology terrorists,
even God herself
assuming she exists.

I jump on the carousel
spin round and round and round
afraid to jump off
for fear of landing in some inferno,
flames that reach the sky
burning me like a marshmallow
over a blaze that is too hot,
taking all of me
and my history with it
with questions that remain unanswered,
contemplation for survivors
in this mad, mad world.