By Richard Mather
Before I had to chance to complete my creation
I was cast down by the rebel angels
and made to suffer this, my exile.
Creation evolved and I was able to converse with man
in the ear of his mind. It was I who hid in the fiery tree
and called out to the shepherd. I spoke to my people in thunder. There we were, in shadows,
in the fog of misunderstanding. I was there when my people fought for their lives
in the desert and in the villages. I was there when they wept at the wall
and left notes for me between the stones. I am still there and I am everywhere else,
everywhere at once, at the same time. I am not going anywhere. I am in the flower, the cow, the hillside, in you. Snap the stem and you will find me in the sap;
prise open the abattoir door and you will find me
hanging there, upside down, my throat cut.
Dig the ground and you will find me there,
glistening among the minerals. I am alive, living, living, living. Look inside yourself, even at the black beast within,
I am there, buried in the dead zone of your being. But be warned! I am the darkness and the light,
the left hand and the right hand,
the nightmare and the dreamer.
I am the victim and the victimiser,
the jailer and the inmate,
the redeemer and the destroyer.
I will never stop loving you. I will never stop knifing your insides. Sometimes I will give while depriving you
and sometimes I deprive you in giving. I am holy and I am profane. Sometimes I am silent
and sometimes I am the word. Sometimes I withdraw
and don’t come back for years. Still, I am YHWH: your God.
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