SOMETHING DIVINE

Sunday morning
and the sermon has refused
to come. Oh, I don't mean I
can't preach. I can take a text
out of nowhere and preach!
It's like giving a poet two words
and telling them to write a poem.
A poet will do it. Don't mean it
will be good, or the poem they
want to write. Just that they can
because, you know, they're a poet.
It's Sunday morning and I've 
been wrangling over this sermon
and thinking about those people
who will be sitting there expecting
to hear from their pastor
and I'll stand up and the audible
disappointment will be sucked
into a fake smile. I know how 
they feel--I mean, if I get up to
hear Bishop, that's who I wanna
hear. But I'll be there and I
usually know that although I
wasn't expected, I am the
one for that day. But not today.
Today, I'm writing this poem
about the sermon I don't have
and the people I don't know
and the word that's not in my
mouth and I'm wondering
if God is at least laughing
about me caring about whether
I say something divine.

© Valerie Bridgeman
November 17, 2013