He didn’t know it at the time, too busy

delivering electricity from Heaven and breathing

life into a planet-full of creatures

fresh from creation, but

God made a big mistake when he gave humans

tongues and a mind behind them, words to spill

out of babbling mouths like red caverns you keep

secrets shut up in. He didn’t predict that years down along the line,

his gospel would be twisted and spun into sharp

threads of hatred, and he

is misunderstood, this God, who preaches forgiveness

and compassion in the same breath as retaliation.

I don’t know if I believe it. The old story

of how we supposedly came into existence, I’d prefer to be

something more than a guy’s extra rib bone

to adorn his body and soul, so much

more. Ever since speech rattled

my baby teeth, I have been asking “why” and “how”, questions

filling the space between observation and answer; I’d rather

weave my own stories to explain away

blue skies and rainbows than trust

in some man’s threadbare myths, replayed

on weary preachers’ lips. Let this be

a new story, because we have the power to invent and God hasn’t

realized yet

that we’re making the stories he failed to create

when he gave breath and speech to Adam’s scattered seed.