Arts and Humanities Commons^™

Dear God, Barbara Shoup

On Earth As It Is

Dear God,

Okay, first, full disclosure: I don’t believe You are a You.

Of course, if I’m wrong and You are a You, You already know this—and everything else, for that matter. And if You really are the all powerful You so many people imagine, the one with long white hair sitting on a throne in heaven (wherever that is), maybe You’ve got Your finger raised right now, pondering whether to unleash that lightning bolt and smite me for being insubordinate.

Two Poems, Nancy Scott

On Earth As It Is

The glue holding the kitchen chair legs

is gone; dried in some season

I didn't see coming or going

and the windows need washing again.

The Santa Who Laughs, Chantel Tattoli

On Earth As It Is

There are faces of toast bearing your visage on Ebay. MARY IS MY HOMEGIRL tee shirts. A flash drive in your image Mary marketed for its capacity to keep 512 MB of data en womb: “Oh Maria, keep my data safe” engraved on your halo and your LED heart red-blinking while data transfers over. But you are too much a saint to mind it. Or maybe you’ve learned to take cruel jokes. That?

Grace, Brooks Sterritt

On Earth As It Is

At the table, ready to eat. I hope they don’t ask me to bless the food. They do. “Be present at our table…” Nervous. Can they hear doubt in my voice? Everpresent, effervescent Lord, we beseech thee to pencil us in for a brief moment of conscience-assuagement and dietary protection. “...be here and everywhere adored...” How great thou art: here, there, and everywhere, hence it should be effortless to come down, enter into my consciousness for a yoctosecond.

Center Of The Universe, Joe Sullivan

On Earth As It Is

Raining this morning, and

she’s sick again, lying

next to you, as a

mini-you. I’m putting

my clothes on in the

dark again, about to

leave, about to wonder

how your day will evolve.

Practice, Ray Vukcevich

On Earth As It Is

Meditation is hard. You try, you fail. There is that straight spine business, and the folding of the legs, and the breathing -- in and out, in and out, and the way words just keep poking their noses into your mental tent, dragging your attention away from the movement of air through one nostril or the other, sometimes both, all the aches and pains to ignore or embrace. Yes, it's a struggle, but the rewards are great -- the control of time itself, the wonderful realization that all the moments of your existence don't necessarily occur in any particular order. …