the survivors of Auschwitz put god on trial in absentia and sentenced him to death. a fitting end for a supposedly omnipotent deity that couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.
if the cross was god’s critique of power then why is fascism on the rise once more? if Jesus died for the lost sheep, then why are politicians evoking his name while banishing refugees?
where was the love of god when our cluster-bombs fell on kids playing soccer in Palestine and U.S. drone strikes stole the lives of a wedding party in Yemen?
if god is not surely dead then he was never real in the first place. Stendhal had it right all along: god's only excuse is that he does not exist.
but i met a girl who so loved the world that she’d give her life for a stranger in an instant. her name means “helper.” she is fragile as bone and sturdy as ancient oak. she is the only tangible reality in a world henceforth without gods or masters.
and i’m watching her wither away.
so i petition the nebulae watching over this pale blue dot not to avert their eyes. this heroine of mine, made in the heart of a dying star, would sacrifice her life for the least of these. but i am selfish. i want her to stay, to stand up and fight, poison-free.
and if the universe conspires to take her life, then i will find the tomb of god and bring him back from the dead just to strangle him again.
stay with me, always, through the long night. help me heal this silent planet. if god will not love this earth, then we will. heal us of our war, our hate, our addiction. i cannot abide a world without you.