Grotto graphic for poem about finding God that reads "Grotto Poetry" over an image of a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal.


I found God at the bottom

of a box labeled—I can’t do this


He’d been crushed by a to-do list

of prayers and hypocritical moments.

I kept Him there and pulled

Him out


when my heart was pressed up

against a wall, choked by the hand

of my own imperfection, very

few ways out. I’ll do this myself.

No, I don’t need

You right now.

He was my lucky charm,

all the flavors of the marshmallows

I swallowed, but they were

in-coherent shapes—I’m not sure

I could tell you any of His

word by


My heart

was always elsewhere,

unless it needed something,

Lord bless me and make it quick.

I can’t go to church today.

Sure, I love you, but you

should understand,

my time is precious. After all—

you made it finite.


My fingers are numb.

One day,

I pulled Him out through the dust

kicked off the heels of my neglect

and finally stopped the trampling

and the insincerity and the


Your word never lies and I finally

knew what soaring on eagle’s wings meant.

It was then I realized God was never

at the bottom of that box.

It was my soul which finally

remembered its hole

and ached for His waiting hand.


I turned home.

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