from the books of Unwrapping His Presence and slow God: 40 years of wonder.
the paper protected the present.
it also presented the gift as something
colors, images. a cover, a mask.
though lovely and friendly,
the imagery lies about reality.
paper, protecting and promoting
a fictional fix,
cast in a mix of amazement,
does its task of deception.
is it something i want,
or something i wait for?
is it someone i am,
or someone i long to become?
don’t the gifts give way
on a holiday?
aren’t they torn opened
to trash the covers aside?
they are because
what is inside matters.
what paper protects our presence?
why do i pretend,
presenting me as someone i’m not?
i must remove the colors, images.
i must rip my cover, my mask.
i’ll give the Worker the task
of tearing, opening, trashing
that old me away,
and convincing me
what is inside is what matters.