Travails of a Veg Convert (in India!)

It’s something that had been haunting me for awhile now, but try as I might, I couldn’t let go.

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I Don’t Sleep Alone

I lay my tired body down,
head on my pillow,
pull up the sheets,
lids heavy…
when they appear before me,
a melee, making themselves heard.

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BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON

Who are they who defend God?

Did He ask them to?

If He is All Powerful, why does He need defending? I was told He would take care of us, not that we would need to look after Him.

If He is the Creator, why do they destroy?

Who heard Him cry out for revenge? Why didn’t the neighbours hear Him? Why don’t you and I? If He can speak to them directly and call them to war, why did He send us avatars and apostles and prophets and angels of peace?

Is He happier now that murders in His name have been committed? Was He happy when they slaughtered kids earlier? Or do they hear from a different God in a language the rest of us don’t understand?

If every deed done by man is done in His name, why does man do misdeeds?

What is this mind for, if the hand is to kill? Why did He give us reasoning and the power of intellect if He wanted them to be subsumed by base metal and sharp edges of a sword?

Who lies? Did He? Surely not. The holy books? I think not, but if they did why are they holy?

Or is it they who lie?

Questions. Questions. Questions aplenty.

Can the defenders of faith defend themselves from the questions I ask?

UPHEAVAL

Libidinous passion,

Singeing, primal, momentary

Uplifting, intense, fulfilling

The memory still vivid

The blood still coursing

The breath still heavy

The heart still throbbing

The face still flush

Awash with intoxication

The afterglow of the encounter

The adrenaline of the escapade

The antidote to the ordinary

And across the schism, the aftermath

Oscillating, lingering, unforgiving

Between the conscience and the carnal

The detritus of an adulterated vow