Redwood

If I say that I believe in a God, it is only because
her true name is unknowable,
though she has been called many things.

She is intoxicating, seductive.
Her voice is like the rasping music of a Gramaphone,
her face resembles our solar system
in motion, only faster-
too fast to see clearly.

When, in my anguish I ask, how?
How can children be allowed to starve,
wars to swallow whole families,
species to be wiped out and lost forever?
I hear her sultry voice saying-

Honey,
look at the Redwood,
see how it stands for hundreds of years, then lays down 
for hundreds of years more.
You can call it a Dead Tree, but it's rich red body
supports life for generations after it falls.

This moment is on me,
but it is not yours.
You can use this body,
but you cannot keep it.

You got hands and feet,
you got hearts that can feel one anther's pain. 
You don't belong to me, 
you all belong to each other.
And far as I can see, it's up to you 
to make a life you can all live with.