A Thought Beneath the Tree

Is it I who hides from You?
No, that cannot be.
You look upon all that I do—
I live beneath Your tree.

I wear my medal, read my books
And thumb my rosary,
As though my tidy, holy looks
Reflected sanctity.

I pray when moonlight stumbles free,
With whispers short and swift.
But silence walks with pedigree
Without illumined gift.

I wonder, despite all I do,
Is it I who hides from You?

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Grey Davenport is an amateur poet and military officer writing on the intersection of grief, inheritance, fatherhood, hope, and devotion. He resides in Arkansas with his family.