Lord, give him to me.
The one hiding behind your cross.
You know it’s only a matter of time before his nature betrays him.
I’ll look after him.
Won’t try to control him or keep him.
I’ll let him be everything you made him scared to be.
Nothing’s going to happen to him.
What if we’re all a mistake? What if God couldn’t help himself one day and got bored or horny and had sex. And now Mother Earth raises us all single handedly because her bastard lover refused to stick around. What if he pops his head in now and again, disrupts the order of things before deciding we’re all useless and washing his hands of us? Well, what if we don’t care about his rules or his issues or his absence? What if we’ve forgotten about him? Formed ourselves, designed our destinies, wanted more for ourselves than he could be bothered to conceive. What if we’re all just fine, or actually, perfect? Without him.
We say Karma’s a bitch, but what kind of bitch? A bitch with no teeth, a bitch with barely a bark, a bitch that doesn’t exist, a bitch that we have created to help us believe that life’s fair, a bitch that gives us morals or at least an impetus to act as though we have them.
Karma, hellfire, justice, what goes around comes around? Where did it come from in the first place? All of the injustices that happened to us before we had a chance to behave unjustly…
Life is safer like this with everything packed into boxes, with all the wrong and right people tucked up in their little wrong and right houses, with Adam and Eve falling from the celestial sky, with Karma swirling around us tying us up in invisible knots, with judgement lurking around the next corner.
Karma is not a bitch but we are. We’re the bitches that get the reckless business of life done, who don’t fear visitation nor hope in comeuppance, who don’t have the answers but ride the questions, who know that life ain’t neat and pretty; no, it’s chaotic and fucking beautiful.
Bitches be bitches. Don’t spend your life fearing a bitch when the real bitch is you.