God’s bipolar.
weeping in our losses
laughing a second later
savoring our whispered prayers
all the while
maintaining a deep secret
of identity
shroud in possibility
shouldering the accusations
and disbeliefs we hurl at It.
nodding
shrugging
dipping Its fingers
in the ocean
–holy schizophrenia–
From a distance, yet next door
It voyeurs wars and indifference
and celebrates
a built bridge
across nations, or even streets
while
the rivers wash the stones anew
–Bless me —
with your manic depressive tears,
share with me your ability to be Here
and There.
So I
–so fragmented and lost–
can feel
Your undivided fullness