1932 – 1950

Any god I could believe in

would have to be like her

looming like a tank

spreading dread

gripping the back of one’s neck

and hurling one like a thunderbolt

to bounce against a wall

and crawl back to behave.

Oh, the relief

when one has at last

a childhood to inhabit.

Any REAL god

is moody, unpredictable and wild;

nor would she have us tamed.

She knew we might need a strong bite.

And god isn’t very bright.

One could feel one had better brains oneself.

She wanted us opinionated,

bull-headed, rash

risking our necks…

sticking them out..

What god couldn’t take were prudent people

with a nose for the winning side.

And a real god is not just

but wilful, bigoted, selectively blind.

She protects her kind

when she isn’t clobbering them worse

because they’re hers.

A proper god is a very large chook

with more chickens than she can shake a stick at.

Any god I could believe in

would have to be like her

but her place has been taken

by this cautious careerist

who implements policy

through appropriate channels

to achieve satisfactory outcomes.

Kate O’Neill

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