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God’s pill by Dana Bersch

My God,
What is there to be done?
Dear Willow, I hear you say,
Was I carried by the wind to a new sea?
Did I not carry the light to a new desert?
I walked the desert,
And I did it again and again.
I saw the sand
Like the leaf of a willow blown in the wind.
All my life is a desert to desert;
Brown to brown,
Tan to tan,
Sand to sand,
Green to green,
Purple to purple and so on.
I was the only city I knew.
From where did the water flow in the desert?
My God,
How did I sustain my city?
Did you not smite me, my lord?
No, you did not but I was.
But did I not rise from my own ashes?
Did I not find my way only to another desert?
Did I not build a new city?
Or was I always a willow to you?
Did you take from my tree leaves to sooth your headache?
Was I able to calm your fever?
I did all those things, but you were there.
You had a right all along.
No? Did you not have a right?
It was I that was wrong
That thought I too had one to claim.


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