A Portrait of God

I wanted to paint a portrait of god

so I got my easel and set up a canvas,

squeezed paints on my palette

and stepped back to consider:

how tall is god?

is he as tall as a man,

as tall as a tree, a mountain or the sky?

how wide is god?

is he as wide as me,

is he thin or portly,

is he muscular or smooth?

is he male or female? is she?

what color is god?

is he or she black or brown or white

freckled, mottled or splotched

tanned smooth or frog-belly raw

a face flushed or livid?

how old is god?

is she or he youth or age

timeless, aged or ageless

callow or wise

something in between?

what form is god?

is she formless or rigid

ethereal or solid…

and on and on.

so I decided to paint god as beauty and kindness

as the face of my mother when I was a child

so I decided to paint god as patience and dignity

as the face of my father when I was a child

and all that was pure in my mind

but once I finished I couldn’t help but notice

that the canvas was blank.