Image of God

A poem I wrote in college:

Dragging one foot behind him, he sets himself down

Good Book open, he struggles, to find the right verse

and toils in vain for the “Matthew” “Ruth” “James”

to which the man in front refers

Then a terrible, unclean urge overcomes him

He braces himself tight and clutches his knees

and out from his lips, to his utter despair

comes an un-wanted, un-loved sneeze

He stares up at the man who sits there beside him

and cowering, trembling, tries to wipe clean the Word

with wide, heavy eyes he whispers, “I’m sorry”

so quietly the man barely heard

Older, wiser, He grabs the small, shaking hand

and smiling softly, refers to the Book with a nod

“My child, don’t you know, that Book’s made of paper?

You’re made in the image of God!”