Lao Tzu

"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.” – Lao Tzu

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Poem: God's Teacup

I have often wondered what folks who pray or converse with their god imagine how that god deals with the information and what makes them think “He” wants or needs their pleas and supplications.

If one's god is omniscient, doesn't one's god already know one's heart and what one needs?

Also, what reaction do they imagine “HE” has to our suffering? Considering the egregious and never-ending pain and harm done by humans to other humans on this plane of existence, one must —if “HE” is truly an all-powerful entity— deduce a wildly sadistic, sociopathic spirit watching over all.

It reminds me of this, humbly from me, from a lifetime ago:

God's Teacup
Last summer she gathered stones along the path up the mountain and scattered her tiny drawings on the floor of the shack where she stayed alone week after week. 
She practiced silence there, even at the stream where she laid her blouse, cotton skirt, the letter to her father, and went barefoot in the shallow rapids that washed past her toes and ankles and entered her like mantras, like cool wet syllables awakening within her.
When he pushed her through the doorway, when he raped her, when he apologized and left —when she scraped semen off her thighs with a knife, like scales off fish, or when she woke within a jabbering of angels— did her god peek over the rim of his teacup, his pinky rising in salute, his eye winking through the mist, his Great Nostril flaring?