you tell me of your god
your god that draws lines in the desert
and says “this is Holy Land” and “That is Not…”
your god that says, “you must pronounce my name This Way, not That Way…”
your god that says, “here is my Book of Rules that you must live by…”
and you say that your god is Big and Is Everything and Knows Everything.
I listen to this and I shake my head, and I say,
Sorry, your god is too small for me.
you tell me of your god
your god that makes the decree of marriage sacred,
marriage that allows a man to abuse his wife and child,
your god that decries homosexuality and pre-marital sex,
your god that despises birth control and abortion,
but loves abandoned women raising children in abject poverty.
I listen to this and I shake my head, and I say,
Sorry, your god is too small for me.
you tell me of your god
that lives in a temple but hates the mosque
that lives in the mosque and hates the synagogue,
that lives in the synagogue but hates the church,
that promises heaven after we die
if we live by the rules, stipulations and laws
written, edited and argued by thousands of men.
I listen to this and I shake my head, and I say,
Sorry, your god is too small for me.
you say your god is big;
I say your mind is small.
And your mind, with its faulty and fragile ego
will never comprehend one crumb of the Infinite.
Your “god” fits conveniently in your mind,
but you have abandoned your own heart.
Sorry, your god is too small for me.
