To be Named "Power of God"
My name means, "Power of God".
I hate it--- Wouldn't you?
But it's not just the name that is the problem.
It's the choice! Oh, that cursed choice!
I have been told that the earth is dying,
-As if it is my problem-
And that a terrible fate is inexorably linked to myself.
Figures.
It's not enough that we had Mother Teresa, or Martin Luther King,
Or any other saint-like people, right?
Now it has to be my dilemma.
Devil and angel's wings beat into the wind, keeping time with my heart,
Reminding me constantly of my choice.
There it is again: that dreaded, dreaded choice.
So, the earth is dying? So what!
Am I supposed to stop it?
From what?
For what?
For the scorpions and scavengers that rummage across this world?
Those people who continually have their ears attached to cell-phones, mouths jabbering,
Eyes never really seeing, and hearts…
Hearts that never truly love!
But my ears can hear the earth, my mouth always stays shut in knowing,
My eyes see clearly everything that happens…
And my heart breaks.
It never ends, does it?
When I was a child I had a friend. Two, actually. The only friends I've ever had.
They weren't scared of me. They never understood the meaning of my name.
Even though their very home was soaked with blood because of my damned name,
They never understood.
Oh, fuck… if the earth dies, they will too!
No! That can't happen! I'll… I'll…
No.
This is not my problem.
I won't take responsibility for it!
I… I can't!
How could one person mean anything to the world?
One person!
The earth is dying…
It's not my problem.
I'm scared.