This morning I became an eyewitness
to a theophany,
an express manifestation of God;
this time He was in the make-up bag.
I watched, unobserved
from behind the mirror
as she removed various compositions,
colors of beaten powder,
saturated polymers, brushes and wands,
women stuff,
the painted love stuff of Jezebel.
But my woman
is such a beautiful reflection
of God's love
she never has to 'put her face on.'
She just makes it a little more colorful.
Today,
she readies herself for church.
We will be late again,
but we will be there in time
to hear from the one and only true God.
The God of make-up.
The God of colors.
The God who is no respecter of persons,
nor the color of persons.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The God of colors! This is very profound! 'The God of colors', the God of all colors is also the God of the colorless, since God knows no colors.