My stanzas do not resemble marimbas
after all. These lines are the warmed
rank of organ pipes, droning & melting
their millennia into my shoulders.
Yes, yes, my God is heavyset & broad
& not a week of childhood passes
without Bach or Luther or a collect
that echoes the grungy psalmist
who says, be still, a mighty fortress
is our God , while the white cloud
of witnesses assent & for years
I relented that this was the One
true Lord until I heard that fat
Nuyorican organist who insisted
that the montuno could handle
the long & heavy notes & what if
God is more bridge than bulwark?
What if Her life’s purpose is drawing
you out of your fortress & into the
arms of some gorgeous stranger?
Alfonso "Sito" Sasieta lives near Washington, D.C., and is a member of a local L'Arche community, where adults with and without disabilities share their lives together.
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