from "The Age of Reason" by Kathleen Norris
Now it begins: the search for a God
who has moved on, the
you still can't imagine, strangely
in which you may not rest.
The pillar of cloud
you saw march across the plain
will pass you by; some younger child
will see it.
It was given
so readily, and now you must learn
to ask for it back.
It's not so terrible;
it's like the piano lessons you love
and hate. You know how you want
the music to sound,
but have to practice, half in tears,
without much hope.