The Inefficient Way


I'd finish so much faster,
If I worked on my own.
And does it follow that
God's inclusion of us
Means I must them?

For God doesn't carry 
A family on his shoulders,
He needn't produce food, 
Return calls,
Or plan tomorrow's events.

Oh. 
Never mind.

I suppose
He feeds billions
And answers all their calls.
I suppose 
He unfolds tomorrow
Or tomorrow wouldn't come.

But he never runs out.
And if he didn't bother,
Would anyone blame him?
He does 
And they blame nonetheless,
Saying it causes them grief.

They do not see 
The cost of our inclusion:
A tidy world disheveled,
Efficiency thwarted,
A million rejections,
Inheritance demanded, 
Backs turned
On the slaughtered son.

Would I lose half as much
With the inclusion of another?
Would I lose a mite of strength
If I surrendered thus my own?
Would I lack any plan
If I daily entered his? 
Would I run out of love
If I passed along his own?

One thing only I'd lose:
My beautiful efficiency,
Which wouldn't have achieved
My heart's desires anyways.


More on the difficulty of mothering: A Poem for Mothers of Naughty Boys

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