Plasmic Thoughts

Plasmic Thoughts

I can come close to God

when I see the bottom of a river

or lift a lightening bug

that has lit upon the grass.

Or watch a plasmic wave of heat

rise above a field

of geometrically cut wheat.

Or remember the day I held my father's leg

and begged him not to beat me

while my mother made her famous cookies

and laughed at me in the kitchen.

I have open ears to the crying child;

I can hear him when I'm thinking;

or when I'm dreaming about the river

sinking but still breathing.

It is God's way of reminding me

part of living is forgiving.

I share the pain of the child

resolved to accept a beating.