Church Meeting Postmortem

I cannot for the life of me
figure out
how people who love God
good people
 faithful people

are able to spend so much time
talking about God
reading about God
and running here and there
doing God’s work

and not have to stop.

And bow.
Awestruck.
Lost in love.

Every five minutes or so.

I know well the sweet seduction
of anxiety, power, and that little harlot,
ego.

I have fallen for their whispered lies,
and empty promises.

I have wakened from a night
in their arms,
unsatisfied, restless, and fretful.

But, I ask you,
do we not have a clue
that the Beloved is in the room
disrobing
right before our eyes?

How many epiphanies are omitted
from the minutes
of last month’s meeting?

How can we go on pretending
that Holiness is not breathing
shivers of ecstasy
down our necks?

Am I crazy?
Probably.

But I am also sick and weary of sitting on this Wonder.
Don’t be surprised then,
when I rise up and prostrate
myself
during Carl Mitchell’s report
on the cost of replacing the pews
with movable chairs.

I just couldn’t go on pretending any longer,
and this hungry Love has taken me

beyond propriety,
decency,
and order.

The kingdom of Heaven will come when men and women
allow themselves to be penetrated by bliss.    M.C. Richards