THE SUN

THE SUN

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

If the morning

would come to me like an orb

lighting the windows

and the inner rooms of my dwelling

I would see not the strife.

The Sun expels the doom

shaking the air in its energy flow

delivered by a sky of peace

to my waiting arms.

If the breakfast cook

cut his fingers against the tomato

how quickly he would heal

administrating his service.

Amidst God

those that profess His name

are beyond the bloodless trials

whose victories are within.

Shall the paperboy

watch God rise in your house?

What of the angry and the vindictive?

Will they hone the bones of others who denied them?

Will their Video games

endear their sense for the brutality?

The Sun- is the face of God.