Playing God
Mar 1 2011


When we were kids
we would play God.
Kicking over ant-hills
just to see the hard black bodies
furiously scurry off,
soldiers hurrying nowhere
workers circling, confused.
Armageddon descending, undeserved
from unlaced high-tops
rubber boots.
The divine right of Queens
over-ruled.

Or torture frogs
which were way too easily caught,
tempting us, unfairly.
Dawdling birds, shot
with pearl-handled B-B’s, or badly winged,
rocks pelted at squirrels.

We were insolent masters
of the natural world,
strutting atop Creation.
This is the way of the world,
the powerless turning the tables
when given the chance,
victims blamed
our meagre mercies strained.

And like the deity, inscrutable,
going nameless
appearing unseen.
Because I think ants, confined to their tiny sphere
are utterly unable to grasp
an order of magnitude
so much greater.
So big, we became invisible.
Or perhaps
spread thin enough to vanish.

And now, all grown up
we condemn injustice
contend with moral subtleties.
And find ourselves wishing
that God would play God
a lot more often.

Or at least once
before we’re gone.
His terrible love.
His strict contingent mercy.