Road To Damascus

A Poem

Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash

In order to see, you must first be struck blind.
Put in the dark
To turn your focus inward.

Now you are forced to look at who you are,
Not in a mirror, which can shift and flip your image,
But in all that you keep behind the heavy curtain
Of that holy of holies deep within.

This is the place of divine dwelling,
An inner wilderness where we are met by God.
No wonder no one went there
But one trembling priest,
Once a year.
What did he find there, but himself alone?

That’s the secret: God is us.
So hold out your hand to be led, let someone lay hands upon you,
Because only someone else can tell you,
Not what you see — you know that —

But how you are blind