He cries in fright---
the nine-month-old when
his mother leaves the house.
He thinks she will not return.
The three-year-old throws a tantrum
when her father denies
her something she wants.
Later she hugs his legs.
I am an adult. Often I read
the Psalms to understand
my inscrutable heavenly parent.
Psalm 146, for instance:
"The Lord feeds the hungry...,
sets the prisoner free...,
restores sight to the blind
and straightens backs that are bent..."
The child within sneers, rolls
her eyeballs, for she sees the blind,
the bent-backed, those in prison.
Where are you, Father, Mother?
Still, I embrace the chimerical legs,
for you, God, are my parent,
whom I love and need,
trust and doubt and believe.
Muriel Lipp writes from Alexandria VA.