A Poem for A Trifling Worry of Non Monumental Proportions
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[Note: I'm clearing out my "drafts" folder. Most of the poems sent
tonight were written quite some time ago but never sent.]
I remember when God was still unsolved
occasionally came up in conversation,
until we came up with a mutual understanding
that there would be no need to say
God was over there, and we were over here,
we'd just say it was all the same thing,
move on as atheists, worshipping everything.
Our heads were the steeples of a church
built for two. In arguments we were superheros
with rays of light coming from our heads
forming beams, zapping the disbelievers
when they got unruly with us, as they did.
God was not as much of me as you were;
surely, it's going to be time to ask questions
about all this again. Should I be there,
should you be there? You may just find
you need me, somehow. Albeit, unlikely.
There may be some moments where the sun
is perfect and the punk rock girl is sprawled out
on the sidewalk, scaring the old people
into thinking she is dead. And you will turn
to whoever it is that is there and you will say
what it is, but it will not be what it is, or else
you won't bother to mention it in any way
in particular, and God, whatever that is,
might not be so close as me, or as close to me
as we are, whatever that is.
It's not like it used to be. When I could not see
a raindrop in the puddle without wanting
to grab the phone and wake you to let you know
just how perfect it all was. Vision sharing may
not be mandatory, any more, but you always
read my diary, if I leave it lying around, and you,
you never leave your diary lying around.
I don't know if it's a future of distraction now,
a world where we've buried God in a certain way
instead of no way at all; I don't know if you will
seek the solitude you would need, to find me
singing the same hymnals to all these nothings;
but I am forgetting all the words without you dear
I am more worried than I was, when we lost God
in the first place.
-e.
