God Is Our Mother


1
God is our mother
and does not exist

without her children
who are leaving;

without her husband
who has already left

through the backdoor of their marriage
into a backyard of indifference.

We are the atheists,
who do not believe in her love.

Yet we hear about it
all the time.


2
Can we teach God to love us better?
Our mother still believes

all that she is doing
is to love. Maybe we have done

too little to persuade her
to listen more, oppress us less.
Maybe we gave up
too easily when our mother

never stopped trying.
Maybe we are the sinners too.


3
God is our mother
who creeps into our rooms at night

while we are sleeping to check
that we have not sneaked out of the house

to meet friends she despises
because they have no curfew.

God is waiting
at the window, resisting sleep

as it yanks with little hands
at the fraying hem of her consciousness,

stiff with worry
and a frustrated desire to scold.

When we come through the door,
we will see her, a taut figure

cut out from the dark, refusing
to be forgotten. She will say nothing.

We will apologise. She will
say nothing, but she will sigh.

We will turn from her as she walks
back to her room,

the nothing she will say
gathering in the air of the living

room like a sharp smell
that will not leave, seeping

deep into our clothes, our hair,
the smell of guilt

we will remember her by.

from Unmarked Treasure

Back to list of poems.