Oh God, the one who heals from cuts and scrapes,
from cold and flues and stitches, knocks and breaks. He's given eyes to see and ears to hear,
and still hangs round… His love ’s what keeps him near.
You do not feed our lust for pow’r - to be
alone within the world, to call the shots.
We have to learn by painful steps to see
with both eyes of the head and mind. There’s lots
of lessons to be learned, at different times,
at different rates by different kinds of rhymes,
by different folk with different histories,
and different DNA, for you were pleased
to have not One, but many child-er-en,
yet let us learn in parenting so then
we’d have a chance to learn KHESÉD* so when
creative love looks for more conduits, hea'en
can be brought here to Earth in ev’ry space,
by breathing notes alone, with chords as well,
so notes will harmonize, and no disgrace
will be endured, unless it absorbs hell.
The scars may stay somewhat as records of
(but maybe too, they might just be dissolved -
for there’s no pain) the stories we’ve shared here
on Earth below, might be then very dear.
And when our sight is two eyed - head & mind,
it strikes me that a new dimension might
just pop into our view, and we might find
that we will see your bright face - here all right!
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