Most of us think there must be
something God hates about us.
We are lost, down by the docks where the
gulls wheel overhead like kites.
We cannot understand why we are
punished, how we come to be trapped
in our ways. Our nature is to be suspicious.
There is fire in the clouds; the earth is restless.
Our shadows turn and writhe behind us.

But yet, a grief is assuaged:
A woman passes through a crowded room,
her fingers trailing mercy;
an old man ascends the stairs, each step
a breath of prayer;
a sky of stars hovers over mother and child
far out to sea;
a boy answers, 'Here am I,'
into the sheltering darkness.
A word is accepted
by one who could not forgive;
the giver bows his head in gratitude.

A question is asked of us. It will take
our lives to answer it. Spirit breathes
within the spaces between us. There are reasons
to think we are wrong about the hating.