I asked a question tonight about God who I’m not at all sure about these days. I’m still here. My Dan is still here. But we’re experiencing some struggles and wondering about it all. So, I screwed up a question about God and whether it was worth thinking of that notion. A lovely friend answered that she’d been to a poetry event and found God in the art. I answered: “Thank you. God is indeed in the people’s poetry. Indeed in the art. In our words. The strokes we make on paper. We wouldn’t write down our words if the Universe didn’t listen. Thank you for the reminder of that. Thank you for reminding me of our skin and what we all think of the nonsense of what that all means in the eyes of who might have created all our lovely tones and hues. Thank you especially for reminding me that there are different and fierce and determined ways to find our ways.”
I still don’t know if there’s some sort of God who looks over us, or if we’re just a terrible parasite eating up this beautiful earth.
The good thing is … we’re still here today and poetry still enthralls, and now I’m looking for materials to make a pussy hat so I can march around the inside of our house on behalf of My Dan and all his things.