To God- By Heidi Curtis

To God

Dear God, are we fighting with each other?
It's been long since I've felt your embrace.

It's probably been since I was fifteen,
On top of a mountain called Table Rock.
It took SIX hours to get to that place,
that was SIX hours of constant effort.

I have never been one fond of nature,
but standing atop the peak: breathtaking.
I started to write and feel your embrace.

Years have passed since that incredible day.
I'm twenty one now, and I'm happy.
But I'm curious to know if you've gone.

Do you only stay when we are younger
to assist us through those tough times?

It's not that I'm mad I just want to know,
was it something I did that made you go?

Well if you can hear me, here's what I'll do,
I'll tell you what I've learned from that day on.

Don't count on others to make you happy
for we have that power within ourselves.

I've learned having tons of friends means nothing
but having a few true friends means the world.

I've learned when you find true love keep it.
Even though things may get tough: work at it,
because it is the most rewarding thing.

I've learned the importance of family
I'll never again take them for granted.

I try to be a good person each day

But because I no longer go to church...

Will I ever feel your embrace again?

_____________________________________________________________________

the poem above was an imitation of Psalm by Emily Warn

Psalm

By Emily Warn Emily Warn Read the Q & A

With coals of juniper, Lord, with ripped willow clumps,

with lodge-pole pine and fir, with wind-wrack and slash,

I kindle an all-night fire to mirror You.

No longer waning, no longer falsifying chimes.

No longer smoking out rot, or eclipsing Yeshiva scholars.

No Lord I know what is within magnified.

Stars will just have to wait to eddy through gates of night.

Little swirl, mimicking nebulae, mimicking galaxies, which turns

for no apparent reason other than to cast and recast the whole

as it whirs and whirls, knocks and ticks at three am

in a snit to proclaim itself not as You but it in You.

If I can strut a note, can rack wobbly pins,

balance rocks into signposts, waves into a grass mass or two,

it will hear itself structuring time. This oddly chopped

watched dimension quarters us into early middle late.

Each day scans and wanes, some hope knowing its moaning

is mourning what it erases. The and stamped by the sea

each second. Be with it and what it erases ceases to toll.