No matter how hard I try
despite the theology I’ve done
I can’t separate God
from the bloke in the sky
somewhat disinterested
removed and impenetrable
in league with earthly patriarchy.
If I say Godde
is it different?
Sometimes, but not always.
What I mean is that
at the very least
a reflection of me rises
not a mirror image
more a sense of depth
Godde in utero perhaps.
I feel Godde in me
rather than think God beyond me,
which seems important
especially in Advent.
Mary is pregnant
with her creation
the mirror, the depth of her
to bring to birth.
In that moment of recognition
integration is possible
known, felt, understood
divisions melt away.
Misunderstood
her creation becomes other
deified, glorified
controlled, shaped
the depth of her torn away
an unresolvable chasm opens.
My God, My Godde she cries
why hast thou forsaken me?
May Godde birth the golden child within, that is you, whole, integrated, completeness within. And in doing so, may the whole world be renewed, born anew in all its glorious diversity. The heavenly chorus of angels bursts into song, witnessing what is born. Rejoice! Rejoice!
Thanks Horatio. I reckon it’s an ongoing challenge!