Epiphanies in Washington Square Park
A shaggy-haired man walks past me in the heart of the park Decked out in a t-shirt with Gothic font: “God loves sluts.” Earlier in church two saints prayed for me while tears Rivered my cheeks. The sun keeps nosing out Of the clouds and somewhere in the park someone Is contemplating ending things. I almost get hit By a wiffle ball. A man is coaching three little boys How to play baseball, and I thank God for him. Elsewhere in the park, someone nudges open the door of prayer For the first time. God loves sluts. For a moment through my fear I feel him holding all things together.
Usually I write a little reflection after each poem but I don’t have much more to say about this one. I’ll let it stand on its own today and be back with more (along with some new book reviews) soon. :) Happy Memorial Day weekend to all my American friends!
to staying awake—
Aberdeen
As always, Aberdeen, your writing reminds us all that there is no such thing as an ordinary moment, only deeply significant ones that most of us fail to notice. But you don't, and it's a true gift that you share that with us.
this is good! real and unsantised life in the city
Thanks for sharing