Here I Am, Lord

By Michael Chitwood b. 1958 Michael Chitwood
The ribbed black of the umbrella   
is an argument for the existence of God,   

that little shelter   
we carry with us   

and may forget   
beside a chair   

in a committee meeting   
we did not especially want to attend.   

What a beautiful word, umbrella.   
A shade to be opened.   

Like a bat’s wing, scalloped.   
It shivers.   

A drum head   
beaten by the silver sticks   

of rain   
and I do not have mine   

and so the rain showers me.

Source: Poetry (March 2009).


This poem originally appeared in the March 2009 issue of Poetry magazine

March 2009
 Michael  Chitwood


Poet and essayist Michael Chitwood was born in Rocky Mount, Virginia. He earned a BA from Emory & Henry College and an MFA from the University of Virginia. In his work, Chitwood explores the Appalachian landscape of his youth and frequently draws on colloquial speech and themes. His many collections of poetry include Salt Works (1992), Whet (1995), The Weave Room (1998), Gospel Road Going (2002), which won the Roanoke-Chowan . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Nature, Weather, Religion, Faith & Doubt

POET’S REGION U.S., Southern

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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