Lower Case g

Posted: February 9, 2015 in Uncategorized

I debuted a poem on Saturday at Capital Slam… well performance debut, anyway. It already appeared (in a slightly different form) in my second Book, ‘Day One’.

CONTEXT: October, 2012

I have spoken about my relationship – or lack thereof – with religion here and there. One of the things I tried to get across in a previous post is my complete lack of understanding. I have found myself many times shaking my head wondering how someone can believe in that stuff.

And I KNOW this is going to come across as insulting but I don’t mean it that way. I really mean it as a total lack of comprehension. HOW can you believe it?

But then, one day, I had as close to an epiphany on the subject as I am likely to get. I sat in the Dominion-Chalmers (which IS a church but I was not there for church), listening to the Ottawa Classical Choir, and I had that moment where I GOT it. I could feel how it could be that someone could sit in that space, listen to the music, feel the energy and BELIEVE.

For me it instead made me in awe of the people who make great things. The people who made the building. The person who wrote the music. The people who sang.

(The cynic in me also remarked that this is WHY they built the building… to create an artificial feeling divinity… but as I say… cynic…)

This poem is what I wrote about it.

NOTE: I did change a bit from the book version because the book version has a section which is kind of insulting to believers. Since that isn’t the POINT of the poem, I changed it.

Lower Case g

I looked upon the face of god
With a lower case g.
Divinity within humanity
Masquerading as humility
Dropping wisdom like a
Times Square big apple,
Exploding in light.

I met a man of gods,
Jesus Dialo Akira Fitzpatrick,
A lower class g
Looking for a little melt,
Pot shotted casualty of
A war on the uncontrolled,
Living on the wrong side
Of every track –
Tracked down, arms
Fall parallel
As he just wanted a
Glimpse of that light
That never goes out.

I heard the voice of god
Beamed at the speed of neurons,
Hard-wired digital message
Of beat-up guitar and
Beat down gravel ripped across
Mic as ear
Translates life into
Something close to
Understanding.
Bic lighters up
To HEAR instead of
Just listening
When poetry means more
That Laureate literati.

I felt the presence of god
As passed through belief
So this unbeliever
Could understand why
So many could toss aside
Logical thought
And believe in
What they can’t see.
I sat on pews made of guilt
And sub-flagellation
Wondering why worship has
To be uncomfortable
When the choir sliced the
Air of mob civility
With the first strains of
Carmina Burana.
A synesthesiac painting
Of notes pinned to intricately
Cut paper planes
Leaving blue fire contrails
As eyes pull up to
Stone walls and tattooed
Glass stains.
Static leaps away
From carrier waves and
Charges skin as hair
Tries to stand at
Attention out of respect
For the divine.
And I finally understand
How stories come to life
And the other-worldly seems
The only explanation.
The birth of faith
Filling me with thanks
But not to the god of
Thunderbolts or Apollo’s
Flaming chariot.
My thanks are to Carl Orff,
The architects, artisans
And masons of the
Dominion-Chalmers
And each beautiful voice
Of the Ottawa Classical
Choir.
My faith is strong
As the unreal becomes real
And the mystical is the
Physical and meta can
Barely keep up.
I am gripped in wonder
As I remember
That all things are possible
When keeping faith in
One another
As we are the
Power and the glory,
For ever and ever,
Human

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