Humbled | Carlyle R. Phelps

Humbled:

My child once stared me dead in the eye,
She said, “There’s no God by my side.”
Concerned, I asked her why;
Through tears, she becried,
“I asked for siblings, but was given none.
I begged the air for even just one.
Prayers don’t work, you see…
How could a God ignore my plea?”

A tempest swept my mind—
With all the ways to respond in kind;
“No parent aims to spoil their child…”
“God is not a genie to be beguiled…”
“It’s not God, but mommy and I holdin’ back…”
“It’s faith, not providence, we lack…”
These passed through my cloaca-lips
Like I was spewin’ excrement from a script.

Her tears dried up on her cheek.
She walked away more indignant than meek—
“She put her emotional cart before the salvific horse.”
In my prayers, though, I had a pang of heart—
Sayin’, “Prithee, let her have my place in heaven.”
With a cell of pride buried in the leaven;
A barley heart puffed up, disguised as a sacrifice—
Puckishly trying to steal heavenly treasure amidst avarice.

“You quelled her tears with idle talk;
Her heart poured through her eyes, and was mocked.
Every drop of compunction treated like irrationality—
Her view of Me was largely your responsibility.
You ought to have a mill-stone cross on your chain,
Pulling you toward the fate you arrogantly claimed
Was her’s to be rescued from—I the Fire, you the moth.
You dare ransom heaven? Shut…your…mouth!”

I am humbled,
Not yet humble.

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