To see the face of God and live
You would have to set me aflame; even then, my ashes would cry out.
The following is one of three reflections I wrote for Drew D. West’s Sunday Poems. You can read the other two here:
“Peniel,” I whisper.1
But how can man see the face of God and live?
This flight up the mountain is fraught with struggle. My youthful strength begins to fail the closer I draw towards the Light.
I’m breathless under the weight of Light. You permeated the air; with every inhalation, I see more. Yet my eyes cannot open to this blinding Light.
Your brilliance sears me.
Shall I give up now and turn back?
Not unless the Light banishes me into darkness forever. I do not seek transient glories—what are they but husk blowing in the wind?
I seek only to see the Pure Light, that which preserves this very cosmos.
And I would rather go blind than have eyes attuned to darkness.
Do you hear my cries? My hands are burning as I clutch the Light. My flesh is charred, and my hip is out of place.
But shall I let go now? I will not let go until you ask my name. You would have to set me aflame; even then, my ashes would cry out.
“What is your name?”
So I descend the mountain with a limp.
Awestruck and terrified, I cry out, “Peniel.”
Peniel means ‘face of God’. Jacob speaks these words after wrestling with the angel in Gen 32.