Poem - MAG Poetry Prize 2009
I Don't Want a Hip Pocket God
by
Arlington, USA
I don’t want a hip pocket god
on which to write checks of righteousness
for a miracle here and there,
a mother cured of cancer,
a child’s fears erased.
Don’t give me creation with a sweep of the hand
like a dinner reservation,
made in a moment,
finished by dusk.
Give me the slow, inexorable miracle
of billions of stars and billions of years
and me no more than a bit of stardust
sliding down the cheek of infinity.
Give me the daily miracles of seeds
that grow into flowers
and fruit that ripens and spoils.
Don’t promise me a paste board paradise.
Promise me moments of joy,
moments of despair,
moments of rage.
But let them
be moments that belong to me,
my choices that,
like dewdrops on a spider web,
sparkle in the sun and slip away.
Added: 15.02.2009
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