Joe Bisicchia writes of our shared dynamic. An Honorable Mention recipient for the Fernando Rielo XXXII World Prize for Mystical Poetry, his works have appeared in numerous publications. His website is JoeBisicchia.com.

Let Me Listen to the Song of God
By Joe Bisicchia

Should I turn my ear and look away? Will I dismiss a fellow human being? He is there, always walking ahead. He is there, she is there, they are there in every shape of head.

Am I more than imperfection? Can I be God’s reflection? And what of others? Will I remain afraid? And of what am I afraid? Maybe it is because I know this life is one of limitation. For that, will I dismiss yet another human being?

I have read this poet; I was born where he rests in Camden City and have taken the bridge that shares his name. Have taken it time and time again, the bridge to Brotherly Love. And have looked into eyes of strangers, and friends, and my own after shaving’s end, yet too often too blind to see what I am made of.

I have read this poet, this singer of himself and humanity. And he is there like he was when we as boys and girls sled that bridge embankment where he still holds hat in hand, where birds nest and from there fly throughout the land; that is him, Walt Whitman, in Philadelphia, walking toward Camden.

A statue in bronze.

Maybe that is what I fear, thinking of what is not so real as to breathe. Even as his words do not rest but still fly throughout the land, there must be more to believe. That his maker is real, known as Love, knows all, loves him, you, and me.

Imperfect I am. But to an understanding God, I throw all my human need. And by mercy, by grace, let it be, that in every human being, and in all, and in me, may I know and love Who I hear and Who I see.