Lately, I've been reading the Bible, and today I wrote this poem.
Riding the train to Los Angeles,
wondering about God.
Had I been born a few millennia ago,
God would have hated me,
and probably killed me
for my tattoos,
that angry El-God
with all those rules.
A softness in my heart,
listening to the Mountain Goats,
“The Life of the World to Come”
How can that old God
still make my heart hurt?
And what about this passage,
a little strange little anomaly
amidst all the plagues and death:
“The Lord bless you, and keep you;
The Lord make his face shine on you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance on you,
And give you peace.”
On a train, surrounded by strangers.
Is God here?
And which God, or gods?
Will he smite us or bless us?
And why do we still wonder, or care?
I thought I’d put all this behind me,
like a good agnostic.
But still I go out,
looking for signs and wonders,
in this city of angels.
Here's the Mountain Goats song I reference in the second stanza, from their amazing album "The Life of the World to Come"
