You say you don't believe in God...
and it bothers me
how can it not when I have seen Him with my own eyes?
In the way one corner of your mouth rises to form a half-smirk,
in the deep mocha brown He painted those striking irises,
in the intrepidity of your gaze
and the wild russet sea that is your dark hair.
I even saw him the night we first met
behind the black curtain of my closed eyes
when your mouth was pressed against mine
I see constant flashes of Him in who you are,
in the one-of-a-kind patterns he wove with his mighty fingers into the quilt of your mind
In your Strength, your Heart, your Beauty. He is there.
Believe me. God is real, I’ve seen Him.
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