There is a tear in the firmament
under which the earth resides.
Breathes,
lungs falling, rising.
We are like people visiting a lakeside
who see our reflection in the water,
and God beyond.
And God is the father
whose daughter has departed,
is building her own life.
But who knows
there is a gap in the key hole,
and a curtain she leaves ajar for him,
too afraid that on her own
she will veer off track,
unknowing.
She does not want his opinion
necessarily,
or any obvious resemblance to his traits,
but she needs the knowing,
in every cell of her own being,
that she is cared for,
not forgotten.
And God knows one day
when she parents,
she will speak in her father’s voice.
There is a tear in the firmament
through which God loves
at just the right distance.
That we are not alone
but independent,
and in some rare moments aware
of an encompassing,
unsurpassing love.
Somewhat like a breach of defences.
And we are people at a lakeside
contemplating our reflections,
seeing God behind.
Breathing in, out,
resting assured.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
October 2021
Living Tree Poetry 