The Clown (A Poem About God)

The Clown (A Poem About God) August 10, 2020

God, are you such a clown
That you’re also the snake
We have always feared
Lurking in the leaves of
Every forest we burned
Down to avoid your bite?

You have bitten me and I’m
Intoxicated by your strange art
Which lures me off the one right
Path that would have promptly
Taken me where I should have
Gone without adventure.

But you wanted a salty story
So you have painted my lips
And strummed at them to
Make me utter words that
Aren’t even words but the
Aches that become words.

You gave me the sharpest
Arrows dipped in honey
To shoot straight into
The hearts of people
You want to slay until
They delight in you.

How can I argue when you
Tell me that your flower is
Sore from all the birth you’ve
Given but you never want
Us to stop climbing into
You like bees after nectar?

You gasp and we watch
The ripples that radiate
Your shivers into every
Surface of our universe;
You sigh and a billion
Trees blush with you.

Of course we couldn’t see
You in the pictures that
We took because you were
Everything surrounding us,
Things we called “it” when
They were part of you.

One day we will see you
Smiling with nothing else
In the way and all the
Smiles you showed us
Before will reemerge
In a final revelation.

Is this how death happens?
The moment when we
Go all the way into you,
Becoming dirt crushed over
And over again till we are
Purified into light itself.

What is it like to be light
That tickles bodies and
Tiptoes on top of lakes?
When you do all that
Are you giggling like a
Battalion of fairies?

Does it even matter what
You are if we hear you
Telling us to ring bells in
The street to announce
That everything will soon
Become your wedding?

How did people ever think
You were jealous when
You kiss us with so many
Different lips during our
Lives and yet we always miss
That it’s always been you?

I wonder how sharply we have
Wounded you, ignored by the
Lovers you created to be in
Love with you, especially when
We hate every aspect of you
Besides our ideas about you.

Is there a lake of fire hot
Enough to burn your tears
Of trying so desperately
To embrace us and bring
Us back to life from the
Death we always choose?

How many supernovas will
Ignite when you first see
Us walking home with
Our heads down, utterly
Defeated but knowing that
Our mother will heal us?

And you will put on your
Clown suit to come out
And cheer us up when we
Think the world has ended
Because our ego died
And we lost our purpose.

One day, we will stop trying
To be messiahs who keep
Getting their asses kicked
And we will learn to be
Clowns who play, dance,
And laugh instead.

When we are all clowns
Lying in each other’s laps
In meadows scarcely able
To stand all the laughter,
No empire will ever be able
To conscript us again.

Will you laugh us out of
Our attempts to make you
Our God-puppet or will
You seduce us into
Falling off the tightrope
Of our inerrancy?

You’re going to keep pushing
Us into mud puddles until
We finally accept that you
Are the eternal child who
Wants to play with us
More than anything.

You told us very clearly
That no statue has ever
Contained your essence
So we made a statue
Out of ideas that had
To be true about you.

One day we will repent
Of every important thing
We have ever said about
You because we will want
Only to be lost within the
Gleam of your eyes.

You are always watching
Us; when we finally
See you, it will be like
The times our grandmothers
Surprised us with lunchtime
Visits in kindergarten.

Has the movie soundtrack
Grown restless enough that
You’re ready to step onto
The battlefield to stop every
One’s heart simply by unveiling
Your face in our midst?

I’m pretty sure you’re never
Going to do that and it’s
Infuriating because the ones
Who love you the most are
The ones who crucify you
The most viciously.

Just say my name one time
When I think all hope is lost
And the empire has won
At everything; say my name
So I can weep all over you
Like Mary Magdalene.

All you have to do is show
Your face and the story will
Be over; you don’t want
The story to end so you
Let the plot tangle itself
Into a deeper mess.

What can I say about you,
Clown, except that I want
To get your glitter all over
My face and dance into
Amusing confusion as you
Suck me into your flower?

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