Hymn Three (Unsung)

Thinking about it—not often enough—I forget You.
Though vast (the vastest), always there (the most always there),
I obsess instead
on a conflated mass of endless incidents, a slew
of distractions, and me, ambivalent me, with my Sunday stare
and already dead

attention span. All of this is to say, I know better, but…
I’ve thought You up white-bearded before
robed in light,
a diadem of universes blinding, even in a glut
of dreams, these earthly eyes, and more—
Your might

and mercy mixed as a different kind of father. Still, You may
be all mist and presence. Ineffable bone-deep feeling.
Whichever way
I choose to see and say I know, You merit time. Stay
near me, God, even when I don’t stop another day’s reeling
for one simple, honest hymn today.

Michael P. Carriger