Wormsaver

There are times when what looks like a sure thing

Can turn into an endless journey

Across a wasteland into nowhere. 

Mother Earth has no sweetness left in her.

She sucks wetness from the skin

The body stiffens

Ready to surrender. 

A stillness comes, and with it, me

Trudging down the sidewalk

An unwilling spectator

Assigned to catalog many tiny, pointless deaths

These are the times when I play God

I pick them up, and toss them into bushes

Into the warm, wet dark of leaves and soil

Where flesh can breathe again

I can’t save all of them

Well, I guess I could, but I’m not going to

I have to pick, and choose

According to some arbitrary whim

I let some die

Conscious of my choice

And not even regretting it

Much. 

These are the times I wonder

If God is just playing God

Like me

If She uses the same random methodology

To decide our fate

I know better, but nonetheless

It’s not a pretty picture

2009