I wanted to do something prose. Fragments of thought ended up as a poem.
It happens every year.
“Ms. Vaughan, do you believe in God?”
“Well, let’s define what we mean by
‘believe’
and
‘God’
before we dive in.”
So let’s dive in.
I just finished reading Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar and it is so rich with wonder about empire and belief and purpose.
How do we know and believe
what we know and believe?
Its impact
on our lives
and
the people
around us.
Also, what are the limitations to our thinking,
and does that,
in turn,
limit our lives?
A brief intermission from the book:
“I don’t mean that kind of martyr,” Cyrus declared. “Though–”
“Yes?” Gabe asked. The bit of espresso foam on his mustache looked ridiculous.
“Can you imagine having that kind of faith?” Cyrus asked. “To be that certain of something you’ve never seen? I’m not that certain of anything. I’m not that certain of gravity.”
“That certainty is what put worms in their brains, Cyrus. The only people who speak in certainties are zealots and tyrants.”
“Sure, sure. But there’s no tiny secret part of you that envies that clarity? That conviction?”
“I’m not uncomfortable sitting in uncertainty. I’m not groping desperately to resolve it…”
So, I sit in uncertainty.
Often.
Maybe too often.
The way I turn
something
over and over and over
in my head
letting every voice
in my self (you know, all the voices that have shaped the voice in my head)
doubt what the other one is saying
It gives me the capacity to speak
about the big, uncomfortable
with ease.
Sorry for that tangent. Let's get back to God.
“Humans think that God invented Man,
but it was actually man who invented God.”
This sentence turned me on my head
At the same age as these curious scholars are now.
But what if I think that God is nature?
Man didn’t invent nature.
Do you see?
The power of punctuation.
I’m not all questions.
I can also declare.
We can still say some things are true.
Man didn’t invent nature.
That’s still true, right?
I often dream of what the world
would be like
if we talked about god
like it was nature.
Mother Nature.
Big Mama.
Less daddy energy (which, if we're keeping it real, I think the men started saying this to maintain a romanticized belief in patriarchy).
Okay, back to Mother Nature.
Would she be a tough-love mama?
The kind who makes you take your medicine
even when
your senses want to deny it?
Because we learn from an early age
to deny
the things that can be best for us.
Would she be absolutely indifferent
to what we wanted
while still being able
to take care of us
and hopefully herself, too?
That’s the god I
want to
believe in.
If, you know, there is one.
Post a Comment