Footsteps Of The Lord Poem by Roger Gerald Hicks

Door-to-door salesmen know something
most homeowners don't, that when they
ring a doorbell, footsteps of people
inside moving can be felt through
vibrations of the floor by his feet.

Isn't it the same with God. Don'we sense
the nearness of the unseenable Lord-
convinced of the presence, we clutch
every explanation presented by every
charlatan in religious cloth, every pen-
weilding mystic, even the faintest breath
of a "miracle, " the near-death tales,
so similar, so ridiculously madeup.

How can we live on this world full of
oxygen, full of life, full of conflict,
full of abundant variation- our world,
our planet, this speck of thriving life
and humanity without sensing the steps
of a presbyopic Engineer?

How can we avoid engulfedment by Crusaders
striving to explain those footsteps with
pages of prophesy, records of revelation,
scrolls, histories, theories, records of
seeking- what we faithfully hope?

Downwind of a barbecue we easily identify
the odor of meat, often the variety- but
of God, there is no downwind, only downwind
of self-appointed messengers who know
nothing but jabber.

On our knees, we ring the bell and listen
with all our senses.Just a stirring- a
hint just out of reach of something so
magnificent it defies understanding, going
about its business.A silent painter
renewing the walls of a home, but we
never feel a single footstep.