THEŌRÍA [θεωρÍα]

The more perfect faith is, the darker it becomes. – Thomas Merton

As usual, in my prayer, God slipped out like soap from wet hands & refused to crawl back in. God slipped out like soap & refused my prayer, as usual. No matter. Silence, when absorbed is a bright omnipotence. When absorbed, a bright omnipotence is silent as when God refused to crawl back in. But I will not let God back into this husk of grace I’ve conjured from his shadow, I thought. This husk of grace conjured from his shadow will not let me out, yet, it is he who slipped out of prayer. My heart, wet & bruised, absorbing silence. Distant as a stone mid-air, I traced the crack in his absence to the lull of conceit. The cracks of me, letting God slip through like air through gauze. All mine, foolishness, yellow as dahlias, taking advantage of my lack — sprouting everywhere, even the eyes. Sickle-hand of the divine, where are you? Take advantage of my foolishness, place a sign before my sigh, make a witness of my weakness. God, on my tongue, praying along.