A Sign (a poem by Connie Wanek)
At the March for Science on Earth Day, 2017
What did it say?” God asked.
Well, first I should describe the day,”
Mrs. God replied. “It reminded me of creation,
an early tender morning, pure light,
the air thin, and every atom
unclaimed, simple…remember?”
“I think that’s because there was no past.”
“Exactly. Nothing had accumulated.
No old shoes or out of date bifocals in a tangle.
In those times we were still discussing
whether the chicken should lay the egg, or
whether the egg would need to hatch first, until
you thought of simultaneity.
God smiled, the most fluid of all his expressions.
“Anyway,” Mrs. God continued, “people were
walking through the city. Sometimes they passed
through the deep purple shadows of tall buildings.
You could see them shiver, and the youngest
clung to their mothers. Then they emerged
into the light, and their arms opened
like the wings of sunning ravens. Many simply
walked, silent, happy to be among their kind,
and others carried signs on sticks.”
“Why? What was this march about?”
“Well oddly enough, it was about
the value of the homo sapiens’ ability to reason,
and honestly, I felt validated.
We spent a lot of time working on that.”
“We were too good to them.”
“No, no! Well…maybe. Anyway, one woman
who had a child at her side and another
developing under her heart held up a sign
that read: “What if Heaven and Earth
were the same place?”
God was silent.
“I know,” said Mrs. God.
“She phrased it as a question?” he asked,
reaching for Mrs. God’s hand.
