"Mine and God's"

God's ... A Poem


She's Mine and God's, so

Where did you gather the audacity

to judge with such ferocity

your sister's womb and the state

of her spirituality?



When did you decide to retire God

and of all things presume to take his place?

How can you say her womb is a cest pool,

when from it God brought forth four such

lovely faces,

such courageous spirits of innocence?



From where arose your own decadence,

this judgmental hatred and bitterness?

Do you not know it is eating you alive

as you play God with people who might thrive

far better with your love should you have

any left inside?



Quit wishing her dead, each of you.

She is from God, via me, and they...

they are from God, too, via her.

Hate what horrors she may do,

but do not hate her.  She is mine.

Mine and God's.



Take heed before you decide to play God

lest you learn from his chastisement and rod

that it really is true that

what goes around comes around and lays you low.

Use what you know to be part of the flow of life

and love and healing, and not feeling hatred

flow through you like lava burning worse

than any hell ever could.



Give it up for your own good and

to further the greater good of others...

sisters fathers brothers and mothers.

Let God do his own work, for he will

make right what we never could.



So leave her alone; she is mine,

and more than that, she is God's child.

Never again presume yourself to be

nearly as capable as he

is to do his work and work his will

as none of us ever will.



Leave it alone now,

for she is mine, mine and God's.