love letter.

Love Letter

I hate you, God.
Love, Madeleine.
I write my messages on water
and at bedtime I tiptoe upstairs
and let them flow underneath your door.

When I am angry with you
I know that you are there
even if you do not answer knock
even when your butler opens the door an inch
and flaps his thousand wings in annoyance
at such an untoward interruption and says the master is not at home.
I love you, Madeleine
Hate, God.
(This is how I treat my friends, he said to one great saint.
No wonder you have so few of them, Lord, she replied.)
I cannot turn the other cheek.
It takes all the strength I have to keep my fists from hitting back.
The soldier shot the baby
the little boys trample the old woman
The gutters are filled with groans
While pleasure seekers knock each other down
I'm turning in my ticket
and my letter of introduction.
You're supposed to do the knocking. Why do you burst my heart?
How can I write you to tell that I'm angry
when I’ve been given the wrong address
And I don’t even know your real name?
I take hammer and nails and tack my message on two crossed scraps of wood:
Dear God, Is it too much to ask you to bother to be?
Just show your hindquarters
and let me hear you
roar.
Love, Madeleine.

Madeleine L'engle.