A Second Letter From God
I suppose I should have been satisfied
with the first letter: I mean, just how
often does the Almighty write to us?
Not since He did it on stone, I suppose.
But I am human and so rarely content--
then too, I still had so many questions,
like why must children suffer cruelty or
deathly ills-- and why are the aged so
often forgotten, ignored, neglected?
Why do so many hunger for vengeance
while others thirst for a drop of love?
Before the act is always the thought--
so why do we lessen the other, turn
him into an animal, some predator
to be feared and hunted to extinction?
And why do we peacock ourselves
with plumes of ego and pride, then
go strutting into the world like
petty kings, wood-hearted queens?
And always, always, we are we less
than we could be, sad thin shadows
of that person we know could, and
should walk free on the sun-lit earth?
I wrote this unmailed letter knowing
He would read the words before I
could put them down-- but I did
not expect an answer... so when I
found another letter slipped under
my door, this too written in a hand
of unearthly beauty, I gasped with
guilt and fear: was I too greedy and
just foolish to want to know the
Mind of God: why He made us
the way we are, what He wants
from us, of us, for us? Now I
began trembling, my fearful heart
pounding like it would burst open!
Still, I opened the letter and read:
"I really am breaking all my own
rules in writing you again, and
I'm not sure why-- yes, I
don't always know my
own mind-- I told you all
a long time ago you
were made in My image--
I suppose I am intrigued,
for the answers you seek
have been sought always,
throughout time, ever really
since I put that immortal part
of you in your ancestors, and
so turned animal into human,
and instinct into choice....
I gave your species
everything needed:
reason, imagination,
speech, and my
greatest gift-- love
strong enough to
transcend even time.
And what did humans
do with these wonders?
You waged war endlessly
and oppressed the weak,
breaking them as though
they were clay pots and
not my beloved children.
So I sent prophets to warn
you to choose light before
the dark ate your souls.
I even sent my only son
to lead you home, but
you killed him-- and you
wonder why life is hard?"
As always,
faithfully yours,
God
Copyright © L. J. Carber | Year Posted 2016
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