Raymond A. Foss Poems

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A picture of God
remains in the recesses
of my mind, an old
resistant strain, a long dormant
thread, a patronymic, ever reminding me
of the Father, the heavenly father figure
the bearded face, the outstretched finger
captured by Michelangelo, the father of the Son
But how do we know, how can we be so sure
that the face of God is the
Father, not the Mother,
not the sister, the brother?

Why can’t we let go
of the outmoded image,
buried deep into the synapses
anchored in the subconscious,
the old, familiar masculine voice,
the beneficent Creator, the nurturing mother
holding, protecting Her ordered world,
Love, the most feminine of virtues;
Lady Wisdom
She too is the face we see,
another face of God

July 2, 2007 22:21

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