By Morris Dean
For this I need someone to talk to, God.
I had a few imaginary friends
long ago—when I was an only child.
It was helpful to have someone to talk
to when no one else was there to tide me.
For what's up here, now, I have to have You.
Poets sometimes need a muse's help, You
know. It's essential to form words to God
in a sestina—for example, like mine—
about the Divine's function as a friend,
being always available to talk
to, if one needs to be again a child.
Many people scurry back to their child
when something scares them and they need You
for a board to blurt out some frightened talk
against, and it helps them to think that God
will guard them like a supermanly friend—
not that doing that ever comes to me.
Several people have explained to me
something Sunday schools are teaching children
now—how religion's about a friendly
relationship between people and You.
But there is no way that that could be, God;
such a "conversation" is one-way talk.
There's some trouble with there being no talk
returned, nothing being replied to me.
But one propitious thing about it, God,
is there's nothing to start any childish
rumors flaring up that involve You—
none can say, "Guess what I heard from my Friend...."
There's an old song that begins, "What a friend
we have in Jesus." My mother would talk
to Him a lot—I mean, she'd talk to You.
And, of course, as mothers do, she got me
to talk as well, but I was only a child,
and Jesus was play to imagine, God.
My main friend when I'm all alone is me,
but today I've talked the way a child
might do, to You, his fabulous God.
_______________
Copyright © 2013 by Morris Dean
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