Contemplation by Linda McCullough Moore

I go for a walk to think about God.

It’s different from praying.

It’s different from anything.

It’s impossible.

He is too big. Too old.

Did Abraham and Moses

think of Him?

It doesn’t say.

Does he weary of the world?

I would.

My friend prays, “Dear God,

I know that you can hear me.”

Like a mother to her teenage

daughter on her cellphone.

I write to him, notes in a leather

journal with a special pen

I guess I hope him to sneak

peeks over my shoulder,

I write him letters I don’t send.

Does he read his mail?

I wave at the postman, but

don’t once ask his opinion.

I walk on down to the river.

So many dogs today.

God made them. I wonder if

he thinks he overdid it.

It’s hard to think of God.

Some days so far away.

Some days so close

I hear him sigh.

That one time, laugh.

That one time, cry.

Linda McCullough Moore is the author of two story collections, a novel, an essay collection and more than 350 shorter published works. She is the winner of the Pushcart Prize, as well as winner and finalist for numerous national awards. Her first story collection was endorsed by Alice Munro, and equally as joyous, she frequently hears from readers who write to say her work makes a difference in their lives. For many years she has mentored award-winning writers of fiction, poetry, and memoir. She is currently completing a novel, Time Out of Mind, and a collection of her poetry. www.lindamcculloughmoore.com