Barnacles

On a crowded Western sidewalk,
A zealous young man,
Eyes glazed with certainty,
Hands out religious tracts
Like consecrated wafers.
Pressing leaflets on passers-by
With evangelical fervor,
He unwittingly serves the Devil
In a relationship as old as language--
For Satan is known as the Prince of Lies,
And the biggest lie is
That there is only one picture
We can draw of the creator,
Only one set of paper doll beard and sandals
To clothe the eternal,
Only one mnemonic device
To remind us that we are infinity,
Condensed briefly,
Little knots in the big loom,
Tiny lumps in the oatmeal of space-time,
That God is present only
Where men bind sheathes of vellum
Or press stones with mortar.

A sign outside a church reads,
"Introduce your child to God."
Such arrogance!
Children are as close to God
As their own divine breath,
As close as the flickering images
Behind their eyes,
As close as their own surging blood.
Yet you would have them live
In your constricted temples
And hollow parchment spires,
Careening alone through empty chambers,
Rather than in their own tiny, sanctified,
Beating hearts.

David W. Aronson