For my God, who delights in my joy and well-being.
Once, I was told this by him who wears a cloak:
“Why allow yourself to be burdened by his yoke?
He desires nothing but sheep that revere the goad;
That can neither cross the fence nor leave the road.
Oh, why place yourself within his inescapable sight?
One turn to the left and you’ll break what he calls right.
Don’t you know that path-strayers he fills with fright?
“Ah, your shepherd is a lethal laughter snuffer—
Of quick Yes, Lord’s, he is a crazed hankerer.
Once you step into his lush yet walled pasture,
You’ll never know the taste of fields that stretch forever;
Nor of paths that lead to wherever you want to wander.
So come here now and fall into step beside me,
For my yoke is nonexistent and my fields walls-free.
Turn your back now on him who holds a staff,
For it’s his will not that all should taste Life.”
After the cloak-donner had finished speaking,
I walked past him and began looking
At the clouds caressed by the sun’s amber fingers;
At the bank along which tykes zoomed like loosed feathers;
At the mango tree in whose shade a panting dog lay;
At the weeds waltzing with the thick breeze of May;
At the lone lad embraced by the psalms of sparrows;
And at the dwellings’ lamps that routed the shadows.
I then returned my gaze to the cloak-donner,
And gave this reply while looking him over:
“There is a reason you hide behind that cover.”
