a poem to a God who is distant & mute – hidden & silent
I built the boat, Lord.
Just like You asked.
Planked it with prayer,
Sealed it with sacrifice,
Ribbed it with obedience
And sailed it straight into silence.
Oh Captain of my soul —
You charted the course,
Whispered Your will in holy riddles,
Sent dreams disguised as direction,
And I — stupidly faithful — followed.
Into the deadness of the dunes.
What’s the game, God?
Build the ark, then drain the sea?
Light the fire, then steal the spark?
Call me out, only to cut the line
And laugh while I drift
In an endless sea of sand?
I traded gold for splinters,
A future for fog,
My hands are blistered from building
The boat You’ll never board.
Did You forget?
Or is forgetting the point?
Your promises —
paper-thin and perfumed —
Fold like origami in this desert furnace.
I’ve waited in good faith.
Now I wait in dust.
Was that the plan all along?
Tell me, O Hidden One:
Is this what fatherhood looks like?
Call the child close
Then walk away?
Send the storm
Then sleep through it?
What a clever trick —
To speak in echoes,
To promise rain
Then salt the skies.
To ask for trust
Then vanish behind theology.
And me?
Shipwrecked in the desert.
Still gripping the wheel
Of a vessel meant for oceans
While You —
You don’t even send wind.
No pillar of fire.
No cloud.
No coin in the fish’s mouth.
Just silence —
Holy, infinite, useless silence.
But don’t worry, Lord.
I won’t curse You.
No, that would imply
You’re here.
