God,  Love,  Poetry


Son of God, he called himself
As if there were some way that any man could be
Son of the Divine, the Source
Child, beloved, known and seen
Son of God, he said, and we thought
He was crazy

We looked at our own sons, our daughters
Stared into their eyes and smelled their skin, very good
Sons and daughters of stupid us
Children beloved, known and seen
They might be divine, we thought
But parents are crazy

Sons of God, he pointed out
That all of it created was called Good
But we were called Very Good
By a stupid parent in a garden
Made just for the joy of it
And love grew crazy

It would be too much
To trust ourselves to this story that is only very good
When our babies are new and don’t look much like us
When we can know and see them
And they’re still divine
Before we realize we’re all crazy

So we got mad at silliness
And betrayed the liar with a kiss
And called him arrogant and wrong
About God’s sons and brotherhood
We tortured hope out of his skin
And killed the crazy

Satisfied we stood
On a hill and called it very good
To rid ourselves of fantasies
Being beloved, known and seen
We killed the liar and the lie
That rattled around in us when he
Articulated crazy


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