They told me “god is like the wind” and
then handed me an individually wrapped sail made of mesh.
Stomach twisting with the apparent contradiction,
I hoisted and trimmed the net that claimed to be a sail,
I tried to catch that breeze that would blow me toward the world I dreamed of…
Instead – dead in the water,
trapped and entangled by an intricate network of knots,
Knots that seemed to be unaffected and unbothered by the divine breath,
Divine breath that was lightly blowing toward the open seas.
Another trophy for the “fishers of men”,
Image of the divine bent to match the mold of a rigid and harsh system.
My sail became a net woven with things that bind and constrict,
a device built for command and control,
unseen hands tying more knots and pulling the strings.
I capsized myself in an attempt to escape,
Found salvation on the rocks and in the wreckage,
Another member in the menagerie of beautiful castaways.
We cut the tangled netting off of each other,
Built a new life untying the knots,
trophy collection turned eclectic collective,
knitting ourselves together into a weird and wild tapestry,
We became the sail that tries to catch the wind.