Lobby God

It was an unusual kind of temple,
It was a lobby
And the god stood modestly to one side.

People looked up at him,
Expectantly.
(Were they waiting for a miracle?)

At least five pairs of eyes
Were raised to him.
Some devotees
Were audacious enough
Not to will the god descend
And fixed their eyes on each other instead,
Fixed their eyes on each other
And pretended to ignore the god
(a watched kettle does not boil)
Together chanting weathers, colds and ducks.

But
The semi circle
Stood inviolate.
If not all worshipped,
All acknowledged the presence.
If not the hope
Of his descent
What kept them there?

At one point
I could no longer hold back
And even reached out
To touch the tense fibres
Of awe over our heads.

Respectful awe,
Angered awe,
Weary awe,
Resigned awe.
All the awes were strung there
Side by side
Like fish in the market.

I strung them like an untuned mandolin.

‘Doors opening.’

Mouth gaped breathless,
Walked in belly,
God lost power.

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