I’m sorry, god! But then again, why am I apologizing to you? You know very well why I left you. You are guilty. In truth, it was you who left me, us, wasn’t it? Where is your mercy, your understanding, your interest? I can go on as long as you let me with questions, questions you have never, will never, answer.
My parents, my teachers, my friends told me old wives tales about Adam and Eve, a snake, an apple. If you created them as a whim, you got off to a bad start. You gave them brains for thinking and then didn’t let them. They weren’t even afraid of that snake slithering up a tree. You didn’t explain a tree, a snake, the sky. You set them down in Eden, a heaven on earth and allowed them to have children and then did not show them what anger would do and let Cain slay his brother. You could have stopped him but no, you let the first war break out between them and must have liked it. Did you sit back on your golden throne, wave your hand and announce to the entire firmament, ‘Let the games begin.’ ? And so they did.
There is no stopping them. I believe you tease us. Give us oceans and let tsunamis wash away beautiful, innocent babies, houses. You take away sight, let diseases go unchecked no matter the money, the effort we give to erasing them.
We are more than monkeys, god. We study, we learn, we have tools, go forward and you send in a Nero, a Hitler, a Manson. Life flows too fast and we don’t know what comes next. Don’t put me down, god. I have given every religion a try, been to monasteries, synagogues, studied with Buddhists, enfolded Christ, swung a dead chicken around my neck and never found your hiding place.
Where are you? What are you? I am totally confused. Not believing in you or any facsimile, tortures me constantly. I stand in reverence, in awe, before you, and remain doubtful. Don’t suggest I find my own way. That is no longer good enough. Thousands, maybe millions of your puppets are gathering, waiting, for you to act, to destroy us all at once. Let us melt, disintegrate. You will not regret it. You will be free, free at last, much wiser and can start over.
Shall we set the date now? How is December 12, 2012? Good luck!
About Me
- Zela Bop
- It was Christmas Eve, 1924. A baby girl was almost not born. Her umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around her tiny throat. Somehow with magical fingers, and needed knowledge, the doctor managed to save baby, a holiday gift for the waiting family. As years passed, so many memories remained for Zelda Brotman. Yet at age 50, when her older brother told her he always thought of her as “Zela Bop,” she was puzzled. He said when people would stop to say ‘hello’ to the cute little red headed kid and ask her name, she couldn’t say it right so out spurted “Zela Bop!” And Zela Bop she was, until her tongue untwisted.
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