"How Else?"

The following is a poem I wrote recently for a meeting of St. Meinrad's "Inklings Society": a group of seminarians who share various personal works of creative writing while enjoying the homey environs of a local pub.  It's entitled "How Else?" I'll let you figure out who's speaking:

 How Else?

In the Dark I walk in stillness.

A low, deep hush;

I grasp for light.

In the Din I search for closeness;

For some small touch;

A truth-filled sense of near.

“Why do I go mourning?”

Why do I sigh amidst walking,

Searching?

 God is my portion and my cup.

Indeed, a rush -

This quenching tide.

And yet He has given Me up.

With this is such

A drenching, drowning tear.

I watch as I’m dying.

Time passing by and yet nothing;

Nothing.

But I trust, though waters be black,

And thousands crushed;

I am held high.

In Me, there is nothing I lack.

For God is hunched,

Holding, calling Me dear.

So, in the Dark I wade.

In the Din I seek.

With a sigh I mourn.

On my path I die.

Yet I undo the hate,

And embrace the meek.

As I rise at Morn,

Messengers on High

Greet Me.

Greet you.

You,

 Yes you,

Are here in this with Me.

No,

Not two;

You now share Divinity.

How else?