Sermon

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Sermon

Was it God I saw talking to his women,
holding a jug of wine?

I am reading Genesis, chapter five,
where Enoch walked and he was not,
for he was taken.

In this fever of Hong Kong
there are no hermits in caves,
no saints on mountain tops.

It is not easy to see with this fever,
and I am numb to my face,
all thumbs in my eyes.

Is it possible to believe
a beard and a light bulb?

Fingers on my throat,
I try not to dance in my sandals
to the hymn.

I am no mime artist.

I am not a Roman centurion.

I am no Caesar,
though I try not to add salt
to the wound.

I am waiting for a voice
to rip me open to the sky.

I am reading Genesis, chapter five,
where Enoch walked and he was not,
for he was taken.

Poem and photograph previously featured in Friends Newsletter. Hong Kong: Friends of the Art Museum, CUHK. Jan 2013 Issue.