Still Small

And he said, go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by… - 1 Kings 19:11a

First came a hurricane, 

            swelling and unearthing the sea’s bed.

Then came the forest fire,

            consuming flesh and every splinter.

Next gathered spectators

who gradually found the means to justify cannibalism. 

Then fled the voice of religion,

            flying first class to the Holy Land.

And God was not in any of them.

He couldn’t be bothered.

            He’d seen what hadn’t worked.

He’d raged before,

            against the dying of the mind,

            with molten slag and salt pile,

            with every creeping, crawling thing.

He’d raged his throat sore,

            until it was just:

A locust shedding its exoskeleton on a birch, 

the zip of corduroy, wet with snow, 

a hum of light bulb filament strained against high wattage,

a still small voice, eking from a mouth full of menthol Halls.