Is it indeed the Voice of God
Who charms me asleep?
Who bids me pay no attention
To the Sun and Moon standing still
And how that worked,
But chides that I should instead
Go gentle into that good night?
Who assures me in golden tones
That having cast my one anxiety on Him
Is as good as casting them all?
Who soothes me that the only important good deed
Is the one He already accomplished?
Who shushes me gently and makes me
Save these questions for another day?
Who nudges me to roll back over
And save the wondering for later?
Who teaches that seeking Him tomorrow
Will be as good as seeking Him now,
When the moment is ripe?
Who warns that my looking into such things right now
Will cost me much-needed rest,
And who will surely warn that if I bring it up again tomorrow,
It will cause others to stumble?
Who inserts that “If a brother sins…”
Is really just about if he sins “…against you” ―
Which may be just as well forgiven as confronted?
Who suggests that “Do not worry tomorrow”
Is as fine a command as is
“Do not worry about tomorrow”?
Is it indeed the Voice of God,
This great palliator
Who applies liberally the drowsing salve
Of indiligence?
Who persuades me that real faith
Is incurious and has surpassed
The drive for knowing?
Who asserts that the myriad details of scripture
Ought not matter in the moment
More than the mere notion of
Believing them somehow on the whole?
Who frowns and counts it misguided
That anyone would think it crucial
To learn the particulars of what is written,
And to put them into practice?
If this is indeed the Voice of God
Who charms me asleep,
Then whose is the Finger
Who inscribed the details
That bid me stay awake
Through the watches of the night?
Is it the Voice of God
Who bids me ignore
The Voice of God?
