In 1997, I turned 25, had a religious conversion experience through a series of dreams, and had my first bout of depression. It was a big year, and 1998 was as well. The image behind this poem is that of a window made of frosted glass. You can see light and shadow through the pane, but you can’t make out much more than that. This, I thought, is about as clearly as we can see God.
In 2025, I’ve doubled 25 years, and then some. I have a diagnosis of Type II bipolar disorder, and I’ve had several more periods of depression and dysphoria. I’ve spent years devoted to Christianity, in the Episcopal Church, and I’ve spent years unable to walk with the Church. In the last year, I’ve actually begun a formal conversion to Judaism. As a mystic, I’ve had some very brief experiences where for the barest instant I could apprehend God clearly. But more than 99% of the time, it was the frosted glass.
Before I show you the text of the poem, I want to fill you in on an artistic decision I made when preparing this poem for the substack. When I wrote this in 1997, my sense of God was very male. I hadn’t really encountered the divine feminine, so my experience of God was The Remote King Up In The Sky. As a result, I used masculine pronouns. We know that God is not a physical, biological man any more than God is any other sort of physical, biological human, and these days I use a very different approach to name and refer to God. I didn’t see a good way to change the masculine pronouns without wrecking the rhythm and musical line of the poem, so I decided to leave them in place. We can call them yet one more misapprehension I had of God. :)
Where is God?
an original poem by Heather L. Rollins, written September 12, 1997
Where is God? Through frosted glass I cannot see the glory of his face but only hints of blurry shadows hidden from my seeking eyes. Where is God? For though I press my fingers to the whitened pane, I can not feel his touch meet mine; I do not sense his presence near me. Where is God? I listen closely with my ear held to the door. His voice eludes me; muffled whispers murmur at me, nothing more. Where is God? I cannot smell nor taste his presence, do not know if he is near me. Does he love me? Are there angels, saints who intercede? Where is God? I want to see him, touch him, hear his holy voice within my soul. I need him to make me complete, to make me feel alive. Where is God? I do not understand why he must hide from me. Where is God? Please give me peace and love and hope and comforting.
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