You are the looking out at us

From tired eyes.

You are the gasp escaping

our bewildered lips.

You are the dog cowering beside us

In fear of a beating.

You are the master of the whip—

The lover who gives all for a friend.

This omnipotence-omnipresence

Is too much for our minds—

Like trying to separate

Iron from the blood,

Like trying to separate

Oxygen from breathing.

We prefer you to play King

In some great palace with a throne—

We prefer you to stay crucified

Held on the glass cross above us

in mosaic windows.

That you are part and parcel

Of all that exists

Terrifies us.

We don’t like it when

You step down among us.

We like you better

At a distance.

We prefer you written

In thick books of scripture

Held safely in church pews or

on those silent bedside tables

In old motel rooms.

© Marissa Mullins
Photo Credit: (Above) Adobe Stock Photo (Main Page) Mateus Campos Felipe via Unspalsh