A

We both may call me an atheist,

but the truth is I just wasn’t made for this;

and not only a one-god belief system—

I’m not sure I was made for any of it!

For life in this human body feels so wrong at times,

like my soul lives a millions miles away,

watching from above while I claw my way back.

But it sent me here for a reason.

Isn’t that the point of faith— a reason?

A peacemaker, a mediator, a scapegoat, and a shoulder to cry on.

So what makes my eyes and mind so different from yours?

Why is it much easier for you to cast a letter ‘A’ across my good name, than to stop—

for one second—

to ask me some questions,

and wonder if I might perhaps have a bright light

in pith of my view, too—

just like you.

For me— I’m not sure if i’m right.

You might be right,

the Muslim might be right,

or for all I know,

“God” could be the guy on the street in the trenchcoat,

selling his tin hats.

That’s my peacemaker.

And to this point I did not arrive lightly—

there was some anger, but my wits were never dim.

And just because I’ve found peace in it

doesn’t mean there are never outbreaks of temper or rage tantrums—

don’t you too get angry at your savior at times?

For me maybe they go hand in hand—

anger and salvation—

for the pillars of my matured, self-made and aged sovereignty

can be as frightening as they are comforting—

connection and impermanence.