from Not So, Not So
I cannot walk an inch
without trying to walk to God.
I cannot move a finger
without trying to touch God.
Perhaps it is this way:
He is in the graves of the horses.
He is in the swarm, the frenzy of the bees,
He is in the tailor mending my pantsuit.
He is in Boston, raised up by the skyscrapers.
He is in the bird, that shameless flyer.
He is in the potter who makes clay into a kiss.
Heaven replies:
Not so! Not so!
I say thus and thus
and heaven smashes my words.
by Anne Sexton
photograph by flickr user whose name I have sadly misplaced. If this is your image please leave a comment.
