uncertainties of a youthful faith.........

diminutive am I
although grown, standing
beneath ‘The God’s Eye’…
youthfulness
taps upon my
shoulder slight
“hush” she says
“He knows the tresses that deem you His,
He breathes your breath,
He cradles your defeated heart,
He listens here,
never loving you the less”…
flushed in shame
I bend to knee
wishing courage
to lay before the cross….
yet, I remain upon
oaken kneelers
my silence
translating
what I cannot recount…
along the shadows
fallen angels
wait zealously
my next move….
as I pass ‘neath God’s eye
there is a feeling
that I should
spend
my lifetime
safe
within these walls
under glasses etched and stained…
yet
life gestures through
the arches
beckoning me from
my hiding ….
cathedrals of magnificent architecture
tiny churches of rudimentary structure
wealthy parish worship homes….
where is the God’s eye
within my earthen structure…
does He walk along with me
or only meet me
where men build in His name….
on bended knee I pose
on bended knee I dwell in silence…
the silence I offer
comes back
and I walk the arches
to live another day…
..................
*_*
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"it's the 'God Window, for God to look through and see our worship."
my protestant soul rebels. I don't want Him to watch.
i want His participation.
I want him to dance in our midst,
to touch our hands when we raise them,
to kiss away repentant tears.
*
your poem is lovely, haizey mine....beautiful beautiful...made me think of the God window.
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~smiles @ gracely~ somehow i knew you'd know
~just haizey
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a beautiful work....searching and found at the same time...m.e.