Where

Sitting and breathing and saying. Saying in my mind, or moving my lips, less than a whisper, words. Little oaths, like stones. At first, I was shy of God. He seemed so much bigger than I could imagine. Like the cheerleader girls when I was in school and the football players whose arms they hooked, looking beautiful as mountains. Going to places I didn’t belong. I thought God was like that. I didn’t know He’s in the dirt, the water. He’s in the parasite that accidentally swims into your ear when you’re bathing in the warmest sea on the other side of the world. He’s in the ringing in my brother’s ear. He’s the stain that rings the toilet bowl. All at once, everything’s aglow. I have little but words to offer. But he’s even in the bowl of my “o.”