XIV: The glory of God

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
(Walt Whitman, Song of Myself: 3)

The glory of God is in my blood. Ooh, it feels good! It goes down my arteries and up my veins, into my ears and my toes. I tap my feet to its beat beat beat. I dance to its tune – the tune of the glory of God.

The glory of God is in my lungs. They fill up like pink balloons. I suck in as much as I can, I use it to sing and to shout. I let it settle on my tongue, mmmm, so cool and fresh, and then I purse my lips and whistle.

Yes – the glory of God is in me and it wants to get out. I shiver with the pleasure of it. It forces itself through my pores and trickles down my skin. I wipe it up but still it comes. I cut it off my hair and shed it off in dead cells. I cough it, I yawn it, I splutter it. Sometimes I have to spit it out because its sticking in my throat. God’s glory know no boundaries. It pushes itself through my fingernails and I hack it off. It clogs up my ears and my nose. I have to pick it out. I defecate it, I puke it, I ejaculate it. It even seeps out of my eyes – I cry with God’s glory because there’s so much inside me.

The glory of God is in my fingers. Ooh, it tingles and it lingers. It frizzes up my hair. Where did it come from? Where?