I seek the Beloved
    throughout the house,
under the furniture,
    in the back of closets,
in the attic, the crawlspace.
    "Where are you?" I call.
"Why do you hide from me?"

I seek the Beloved
    in nature,
in the rumbling, churning storm,
    the quiet of a sun-warmed beach,
beneath a golden stand of aspens.
    "Where are you?" I cry.
"Why do you hide from me?"

I seek the Beloved
    in sacred writing,
in tomes of wisdom,
    in volumes of theology,
in poetry that lifts and enlightens.
    "Where are you?" I shout.
"Why do you hide from me?"

And the Beloved answers:

    "I do not hide from you.
You seek me outside,
    when I am found inside.
I have always been here within you.
    Stop. Breathe. Listen.
I cannot hide from you,
    just as you cannot hide from me."

"O, my Beloved," I say,
    "I have spent so much time
seeking what has always been
    closer than my own breath.
O, my Beloved.
    O, my Beloved."

Text and image © 2022 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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