Praise Be He

By Yael Boaz

the large wooden door

is carved with intricacies:

swirls and stars

and suns and symbols

of nature and love

and religion and praise.

how sinfully vain

the artist must have been

to see their life's work

hung at god’s doorstep,

guarding the entrance

from soulless sinners,

letting in only

those pure

of mind, body, and soul

all in the name

of a loving god.

inside, stained glass windows

paint pretty pictures

during the noonday sun,

a sun that burns–

burns bright and harsh

pious people in pain

all in the name

of a loving god.

the ceiling, high

in the heavens,

strung with glittering chandeliers,

made of perfect

whorls of wood.

wood humanity cut,

maimed, sanded and perfected

all for the sin of greed

all in the name

of a loving god.

the statues of saints

standing in alcoves

painted and carved

to lifelike humanity,

watch over the prayers

and hymns sung daily,

watching, judging

souls as though to see

who deserves a spot in eternity

based on how loudly they pray,

based on the specks of sin

humanity accumulates simply

breathing,

all in the name

of a loving god.

they sing praises,

voices raised in a song

that rises to the heavens,

a song about an all-knowing god,

an omniscient god,

a loving god.

songs about his favorite children,

how he saved

them and created

them and made them in his image.

how he led them out of slavery

after watching stoically

as they were enslaved.

he kills civilizations ruthlessly

and humanity call it “justice”

or did everyone forget

the tragic story of lot

and his wife’s wish to say goodbye

to the village that had been her home?