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The Kingdom of God (Right Beneath Our Feet) {POEM}



I carried a myth

for many years,

handed to a little boy

sitting in a church pew

every Sunday morning.


This world

was not to be trusted.


This body

was an open door for the Devil

to walk through.


These hands

were only good

for turning

the pages of a holy book.


Those black-robed

preachers shook

their fingers

at us sinners

and I did as I was told.


But I could never find God in the places where

the preachers said He lived.


Not in the stained glass

houses we built for Him.


Not in communion wafers and small sips of wine.


Not on my knees,

in fear.


Instead, I found God

everywhere else.


In the cathedrals of forests

untouched by

human hands.


In the rhythmic

roar of breaking

waves.


In the sweet union

of our bodies

under moonlight.


If I could stand at the pulpit

just one Sunday morning, I would tell the whole

congregation:


The Kingdom of God

is right beneath our feet.


It’s the air we breathe.


It’s the red-blooded beat of every human heart.


It’s the sun

slowly breaking its light

over the blue haze

of mountains each morning.


It’s the same light reaching

my bedroom window

at dawn,

making her hair

glow like fire beside me.


I have all the heaven

I’ll ever need,

right here.


Meanwhile,

the holy books sit closed

on my desk,

silent.


I do not need

their myths

this morning.


Today,

all I can see

is God greeting me from every face

and every flower,

everywhere I go.

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