I saw God today

Axel screeched about needing some time alone
as we drove south before sunrise in our own October rain.
Michelle was early and my omelet late
but we still shared it with smiles
along with her prayed-for-raise she heard about last night.
Lisa from Main had lunch with me today
she had something to say, so she finally said:
I apologize on behalf of my country to you,
for not really caring about Africa and her people like you do.
You see, we still believe in this dream,
that if they just work and learn and try hard enough,
they will get to live in heaven, just like we get to do right now.
“Thank you,” I said,
“I’ll cancel my appointment with your president.”

Turning north on the seventy-five,
alone in my eighty-eight Civic at half past nine,
the four-lane highway toward the holy of holies shone slippery and wet
Passing through this first-world Parthenon
their sky-scraping-statue-colonnade, fed by blind fornicators,
exhausted, hungry, missing dinner with their wives and their kids.
A red sign up ahead beckons: hotel.com
two eighteen-wheelers pass me at once, from both sides,
offerings to impatient idols,
transporting more temptations to choose lesser loves.
Their square, rigid gods, barely noticed around here,
only seen from their navels downward,
their feet planted firmly in once-oil-drenched-clay-ground.
All heads and shoulders will eventually bow to this cloud.
Beyond the high-five, I try to stick to the limit, but can't
now at sixty-seven miles an hour, we pass beyond the outer court.
Chinese car dealerships display cheap birds, perfect for a ransom sacrifice.
Far away and all around I see, invisible lampposts casting their cones of yellow light,
hovering halos shine brightly beneath the heaviness of this mist,
like angelic beings leading me along in rapturous delight.
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come.

Who am I to recognize His glory?
What am I?
A mere white, woman, formed form red African dust?
That the One who made the stars
should remember me tonight?
If I should receive that most treasured of gifts,
a father for and from him,
a sweet baby girl,
to feed, to bathe and to dress,
smelling of lavender and chamomile tea,
rocking her down-feathery-soft-head in my palm,
swaddled warm against my breathing chest,
I shall choose this name for her;
Lena Emmanuelle.