In Response to Myself in the Garden While Dwelling in Grief

CW: If you’re Christian, the poem is heretical.

By Keira Perkins

I am the god of small things.
I am the god of slugs,
And spiders,
And bees.
I rescue those that creep in the dirt from steel blades
I lift those that scuttle from deep and impassable waters
And those that pierce my skin and draw my blood, live.
They live.
I am the god of small mercies.

Tell me that your God is mercy
Tell me of terrible deeds that show His Will
Are you not worth more than many slugs?
And yet.
Yet.
Is a kitten safe in your Father’s arms?
Or will her head be dashed against rocks to show you
Power.
Are her lungs crushed to show you a Master
Plan.

Your God will not pour salt upon my soil
He. Will. Not.
Twist
Small, wounded souls until they love
Him. And only Him
I will cast your God from my garden
I will banish Perfect Love from my imperfect heart.
For I am the god of the small creatures
I am the god of small graces.
I am the god of the slugs.

Learn more about Keira in her bio on the Featured Author page.

Published by HLWW Featured Author

Featured Author of the Heartland Society of Women Writers

One thought on “In Response to Myself in the Garden While Dwelling in Grief

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