I form my query, fold my mind and mail it off to God with a stamp of approval from my sponsor. The questions sent are of no great interest but the responses are a spellbinding group. What is returned unopened is a wide array. The circuitous route taken by some is a charm of elucidation. I rub my fingertip over the intact seals and marvel at the travels of the wax. I mourn over the defunked gods and their public relations organizations. Slow is my resolve to pore over the replies. I get easily caught in lackings and shy from true contact. The equations embedded in my heart read the letters and sing the notes; these songs are just for me. I know them like my name. I turn the envelope and see how old the postmark is.
Remember your comfort needs a life of its own.
Reaction is a separation, a polarization;
it cuts you from me and God from we.
Response is a connection, an inclusion;
threading a line from you to me
and stitching God into our pockets.
I realize now that any positive connection
is an instantaneous link to my Higher Power
and can’t help but bring us closer.
Tiny feet carry beauty and kindness;
tiny teeth tear the fabric of the world to bits.
I must let my footwork conduct my life’s work
and seal my lips and reserve the dentistry.