I did not ask to be here
Did not call a counsel of the Gods
Requesting placement on this planet
I did not beg to be born
Hoping Zeus would hear my plea
I did not submit an eighty year plan
āWhat Iāll do with my time on earthā
Ripped into life
Bound by gravity
My first sound a quivering, agonized protest
Forced to breathe oxygen and eat food grown in dirt
Cultivating longevity
And at some point
Though I did not ask for it
The choice became mine
To stay or to go?
Forced to come here
Allowed to leave
Given a gift I cannot refuse
Told I do not have to keep it
āTo be or not to be
That is the inquiryā
Or something
Living is no longer that which must happen to me
Shall I engage it?
Here there are snuggles and coffee and chocolate
Love and joy and peace and laughter
Genocide
Corruption
Loneliness
Murder
An endless and inescapable dissatisfaction
Why stay?
Because I want it to be me
When my children need a shoulder to cry on
When my partner celebrates a victory
Mourns a loss
I want it to be with me
When dawn erupts from night and stars synchronize across lightyears
When wind tickles trees and waves wrestle with beaches
When friends offer hugs and handshakes
When children die too young and wicked men live too long
I want to witness
to Lead
to Follow
Participate
This is where I want to be
ā
I would have considered the end of this poem extremely dissatisfying not so long ago. Part of me still sort of does. It leaves me with an itch I must scratch. Somehow āwanting to be hereā wouldnāt have been a good enough reason to be alive.
āGive me resolution!ā
I think thatās why I leaned so hard into the evangelical flavor of Christianity for a whileāthere seems to be an inevitable and incessant pull toward satisfying answers in my experience of that community. But Iāve come to thinkāor have been shown? Who actually knows how this thing works?āthat, like the cliffhanger ending of a movie demanding a sequel, the tension of existing is the thing that makes existing worthwhile.