God knows why

from willa beale

they would have me be useful
instead we read articles about deep ecology and write poems about farts—

God knows why
they would have me be useful
i am useless, they know, don't they know
i am useless, i am Him, i am You, don't they know

i—am—not—here

they would have me be useful
God knows why
but i wasn't made for them, wasn't i?
wasn't i made for Them?

they would have me be useful
God knows why but, God, please
God help me out of this labyrinth
but
God is silent because
Their Kingdom is Within Me

and i don't know the Way

i am on a pilgrimage
to find what is most holy
about the spider bite
i woke up to on my chin

why did you bite me in the night, tiny spider?
why does nature have a free-use relationship
with homo sapiens that we did not consent to?
why does the old sickened black tree remind me
most of the God i have grown to love?
why do the stars compel my thoughts to turn
to those who are not with me but share my planet's sky?
why did you bite me in the night, little spider?
why am i so upset about the love i received while unconscious?
why am i having a crisis of faith over you, little one?

God knows why, i know
God knows why, but
God is such a quiet planet deep down
i can hardly hear Their voice over the smog

instead, we turn to the hierophany of nature
because it is obvious to me that nature sings
a language to poets and painters and sages
that cannot be heard by the common folk
or even the musicians and thespians
or even the scientists

this language is called—
and it sounds like everything you love
and everything you hate

i do not speak the language
i do not know the language
but if i sit so still
a hummingbird would perch on me
then we understand

God knows why, but we understand
and we no longer wonder about anything

instead we read the patterns of the freckles
in old photographs and cherish the minutiae
of the time we no longer wish we had
instead we read articles about deep ecology
and write poems about hairy, human-scented love
instead we enjoy the Sun when They are here
and we enjoy the Stars when They are not here
instead we kiss the Air each time we speak
and we tongue the Sea each time we mumble in the rain
instead we sow seeds in the Spring and harvest in the Fall,
and we eat when we are hungry and sleep when we are tired

God knows why
they would have me be useful
i was too focused on my usefulness
too focused on my silly noises
too focused on the tragedy of cars
too focused on the comedy of capital
too focused on sex and absence
too focused on commerce and accountability
too focused on yesterday and tomorrow
too focused on meaningless idealism
too focused on You and Them and me

i miss You
i miss You
i'm sorry i'm not well

i am not angry
i cannot feel it
i could never be angry
there is too much that needs to be loved by me

God knows why
they would have me be useful
but i am useful, i know i am useful because
when that Small Baby Toad was frightened
i said, you could not be safer than with me:
i am the safest human who could have captured you
now, go and rustle hopping through the wild mint
and multiply, please, because we need more frightened toads

i need more frightened toads
i need more articles about deep ecology
and flatulent poems
i need more useless nonsense no one else is loving—

WHO LOVES THE LOVELINESS OF THE UNLOVED??

i need more late nights with Your mouth
and more late mornings with Your eyes on me
i need more afternoons spent in hammocks
and more midnights spent on smoke-weary porches
as You talk to me about deep ecology and ask questions
about my next collection of useless poetry
as You worry about me and wonder where i am and ask
why i did not tell You about how uncomfortable you made me
when You thought We needed the Peace of Knowing, how
uncomfortable you make me, loving me when i'm unconscious, and
lying to Us about the illness You have poorly hidden behind
the veneer of loving others, and why i still love You despite
the emotional and parasocial free use i did not consent to

i miss You
i love You
i'm sorry i'm not well

i need more compassion from all You Useless, Hopeless People
who care more about Your mortality than the morality of living
and who take and take from all their beloved fellow animals.
i love You so. God how do i love You so, if only You'd know
that when i sit on the Solid Earth (my TERRA FIRMA) and meditate then
i can feel all of You

i can feel all of You
i can forgive all of You
God knows why

— for Everyone (including You)

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Author’s Note: This poem was written throughout the Summer and Autumn of 2042. If you detect a note of emotional ambiguity, then it is because I incorporated an emotionally ambiguous note. Movement never ceases and what is revisited is forever met anew. Thank you. — wb

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