God, Will I Ever Be a Man

My God, why are you so quiet to your child? You are noisy as trucks rumbling by remote I see you in the terrors of the night glowing I taste you in the night cloying in my throat I feel you down to my restless legs waking I know you as a child knows his father Coddled children never learn to walk You left me in the care of parents who leave But, didn’t you abandon me just to gawk? Still, you've never left me though I bereave My immature mind reaches out to you You are the quiet voice in my cries shaken You remind me that to talk I must listen You remind me to feel I must ache To see I must know your pure omission You show me the broken pieces rebuilding In the dead of night, I feel your lovely floor Can I embrace myself within your cold tomb? Your son leaves the frame of a blackened door Your silence rushes in noisy as a womb You remind me you are light and darkness You are my true parent asking me to rise Again and again without a hand to hold Without a guide, you show me who is wise You ask me to be my parent as Jesus toiled You promise me rest when night comes When hands grow cold and there's nothing to do You are a father that never grows old Then a door opens for me to hobbled though Will you greet me when senses are unconsoled? Your quiet and darkness are a play of stillness You are faith and doubt when senses are unsteady Grant me your everlasting maturity in your plan I promise to rise when I’m good and ready I promise not to cry like a child, but a man **** Isaiah 46:9-10 Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.