She Lies a Mystery of What’s What

The world slips through time and space,

leaving a trail of cosmic dust of what once was us.        

The holy, the ones who can see beyond God’s veils,

that separates Her from Her children,

say She’s descending, in full wedding dress , with a pearl pin

and an orchid bouquet, waiting for Her groom, that’s us.

She steps down through the heavens soon to visit.

She’ll transcend the skies once again to find Her people,

whether we’re right or wrong, to hear if we still sing ancient songs.

To see if we’ve done what’s needed to be done, She’ll come.

Our faith is strong,

but we’ve been in bad times for so long,

all our movements have become a Tango

 within, without Her perfumed letter’s home.

We dance and drink to forget our purpose

to become one with Her

in the heaven’s cosmic song.

We move along the star struck streets,

as we pass silently through the shaded parks

where open hearts birth all starts.

To find ourselves just playing a part.

The truth of life is She, though She’s up for interpretation.

 Our lives are often cold and very broken,

an example of verbal and nonverbal miscommunications,

we’re a junkyard full of old jalopies all praying, rescue me!

 We sing, Hallelujah! Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

Still we pray in circles that we’ve chosen,

often to soften our hearts that need to be unfrozen.

God beats down our weary paths, and

though She has cut back a widened swath,

still She hides, a mystery of what’s what.

The poor wrap themselves in foil blankets

to stave off their cold, concrete stay of place.

Still, lost children have no mother to hold,

dried tears fell for a father a child can’t remember.

A man of faith has been slain while praying

in the cold days of a crisp December.

 And still, we turn away, just another casualty of our indifference.

Our actions, inactions cast a lengthening shadow

that creeps down to the rivers, and spreads across the seas,

where people, not so unlike ourselves,

wonder how a people became like us?

It’s time that we laugh and dance.

Touch us with Her light!  Give us one more chance!

The angels sing, God’s words are truth!

We try to hang onto Her verse as

we spin through an ever evolving Universe.

Though our hearts are marred and even charred,

we still reach for Her, with our battle scars,

our shattered realities, our long lost casualties,

standing alone,  for all to see, hoping to find She,

in a world that we have created and defeated.

To reach for her hand as we sink beneath a sea of defeats,

even as we know we are out of our depth,

as we attempt to return, to rise to She.

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

The angels sing that God’s word is truth!

We climb from the primordial seas, using Her words once again,

trying to evolve into someone who is worthy of She.

About Lisa Tremback

I started writing in Elementary school and was published in school and local newspapers. I graduated from Kishwaukee College with an A.A. in English and a certificate in Computer Operations. I later studied under the poet, Bill Knox, at Columbia College in Chicago. I have been published at Colorado State University's underground newspaper. I enjoy writing almost every day and love to write about my relationship with G-d.

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