for Gerard Manley Hopkins

My God!

That I might not know,
bent to the floor, dirt-kissed,
grit-scuffed, searching remains,
the absence of your name.

I am left, when right is all I can endure.
Thoughts of you appear miraculously,
wrapped in ethereal imagery,
inked papyrus? (flickering screen),
and I can but weep of thoughts of you lost,
forsake that which names your absence.

Your voice splashes through the rapids of my eyes.