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    • 2022: Ergo >
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    • 2021: Reformation >
      • Writing
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      • Performance
    • 2020: The Revival
  • Contact

if there is a god

by Anonymous
if there is a god then she is blind 

and i cannot tell you what the weight 
of a crown feels like on a furrowed 
forehead 

but in the quiet corners 
of the broken pieces of my mind 
i imagine 
it isn’t all that different from 
the weight of the blueberry bonfire 
fueled by crumpled paper 
scribbled with questions 

if there is a god then she hails from below 

the universe is a screened porch in a 
wavering house during a wet 
coastal summer and 

i am a fruit fly stuck 
between the glass and the 
screen, fighting in perpetuity 
against a quasi-invisible 
unending opponent 

if there is a god then she is afraid too 

and i can scream and shout and 
stagger to my knees 
as the stars watch from a thousand 
miles away, 
smiling passively, and 

kid, have you not been 
told a thousand times 
not to yell for help when 
you need it 
because if everybody hears you then 
nobody hears you at all 

and there is no god 
there is no god there is no god there is no god but
​if there is a god then she is surely not mine
Artist Statement:
I could take this space here to talk about religion. I could talk about myself, and how I’ve grown and changed, and how the idea of a god has played into that. If I wanted to, I could discuss the agnosticism and atheism around me and how both influenced me. I could talk about how much I want to believe in a god, and how I just can’t bring myself to. I could share my worries about my own beliefs, and how the idea of hell terrifies me, but the idea of oblivion terrifies me even more.
But, to be honest, this piece isn’t about religion at all. It’s about the strange nature of the universe, and the questions of a teenager. It’s about the fickle beast that is anxiety, and how it does everything it can to convince you it’s your friend. It's about the way it whispers poison in your ear, and about how part of you knows that you're being irrational but the rest won't let you stop spiraling. I think one of the more misunderstood things about anxiety is the fact that the disorder doesn't make you worry that you're wrong. Instead, it tells you that you're right. It tells you that nobody cares, and that the world doesn't need you, and that everything you do is pointless, and you can't stop yourself from thinking that I knew that, I told you so, I was right.
When you read ‘if there is a god’, I hope you get the sense of helplessness and uncertainty that comes with an anxiety disorder. When you shout into the void even though every part of you knows it isn’t listening, and the universe snaps at you and the wind looks away and your throat stings from yelling through tears, you experience something that you can’t find any other place. Shouting into the careless sky isn’t fun, and it isn’t helpful.
You should try it sometime.


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