a God

The driftwood, bleached by the sun, was entwined with seaweed.
It resembled the jawbone of a giant
cast ashore by a god more powerful than we can imagine.
To be a child again and allow such fanciful thoughts.
To believe in giants and gods.
And in a God.
‘I am a man,’ I tell myself.
‘I am an adult now,’ I tell myself.
It isn’t about giants hurling jawbones onto desolate shores.
It’s about storms, tides, saltwater, and sunlight.
I continue to stroll the barren shore.
It is autumn, and the biting wind drives most people away.
I stumble upon a teepee-like structure.
It was quickly built,
Obviously, the work of kids.
tourists, no doubt,
here for the summer – here for a day
on the coast of Maine.
I place my rain jacket on the sandy ground
inside the structure
and crawl in.
‘Here,’ I think,
‘This is where I will wait for those giants.
This is where I will wait for God.’