Poetry: Sparrow-God, Ailing-God & A Visit to the Lord (Luis Cruz-Villalobos)

Having most recently posted the excellent Preface to Theological Poetry by philosopher, John D. Caputo, we now follow this up with a poetic sampling by Luis Cruz-Villalobos, which encapsulates the basic tenets of what is known as “Weak Theology”, which is to say the paradox inherent in true wisdom.

Enjoy!

SPARROW-GOD

If God existed

nothing would change

Sartre used to say

from his cross-eyed perspective

But it is clear

that neither the Platonic god

nor the Aristotelian god

nor the non-god of prince Gautama

nor the stoic Logos

nor the one of Spinoza

anyway

Could change anything

Quite like the deist god

Crazy watchmaker

Distant chatterbox

Powerless by definition

Apathetic by supreme excellence

That god

nothing

a nobody

Most definitely

Sartre was right

No contribution

A cold and calculating god

Unshakeable

Nothing

But they can never deny

That the sparrow-God

The impoverished God

The God passionate for his work of art

The God that is mad about love

The martyr God

This and only this God

changes everything

He leaves everything in deconstruction

like dancing atoms.

AILING GOD

One day God got sick with cancer

He started to get thin

rapidly

Bags under his eyes

Pasty voice

and nobody visited him

in the hospital room

That cold vaulted room

with metallic beds

painted in what-once-was-white

God stared

at his roommates

All ill with the same hell

All distant

Close to death

Full of pain

just like Him

but accompanied for the most part

God on the other hand

Alone

On one occasion

he woke up right at midnight

and like never before

he unprecedentedly thought

about death

His death

not a redeeming one

not a symbolic one

not a mythical or a cosmic one

Just a death

like those that are common nowadays

A lonely death

Cold

Sad and empty

An absurd death

He swallowed hard

Looked out the window

and saw an acacia in bloom

beneath the light of the moon

He closed his eyes

Took a deep breath

and wept.

A VISIT TO THE LORD

On one sad day

Frustrated with my lovely wife

Filled with a bitterness

that couldn't be hidden

I looked for shelter

in the house of the Lord

In those days he used to live

in an old building

close to Parque Forestal

His apartment was simple

A Table

Two recliners

Three chairs

Eight oil paintings

Several bookshelves

Old and new records

In the end

A normal place

Clear and warm

just like the house

of a real friend should be

There I was

with a few tears

about to dry up

getting on the old elevator

Seventh floor

Door seventy-seven

I ring the bell

And He opens the door

Hello

You had a fight with her

He says as he reads my eyes

Yes

I answer quietly

Come on in

I'll bring you a cup of coffee

We sit down

Silence

Silence

Mine and His

Silences that get together

And understand each other

Then he stands up

passes his hand over my shoulder

and says

Make yourself at home

As I have an appointment to run to

Then I'm left there alone

looking at the sunset

a perfect and fluid watercolor

over the balcony

in deep peace.

From Pauper God. Theographies (pp. 253-259).