What if the God we believe in,
or reject,
is not the all powerful
who turns from love
to vengeance,
but is the most delicate
gossamer?
–
What if God is the
the lightest butterfly?
Not the weight of the universe
but the wisp
that’s needed
to balance the universe
on the breath of her wings?
–
What if God depends on us
to preserve the space
for that breath?
To protect her
from the turbulence of our
wheeler-dealing prayers?
–
What if the gossamer
is worn ever finer,
the wisp ever lighter,
when we call upon her
to slaughter our enemies?
–
What if the power of God
holds
when we are still
and listening
and alert?
So that, in that watchful
stillness,
the world can
come to rest.
–
What if our sacred duty is
to be God’s haven?
–
Would we still
drill the hearts
of our enemies,
bomb the cities
of the unbelievers
or clamour to be the chosen?
–
Or would we stop:
in case the din
toppled the beloved?
