God is not dying
but exhaled reincarnation.
“God” is not dead,
Just inhalation left unsaid,
Confined beneath breath and bone
And veiled among the burning passion of fiery stars.
God is captive,
Bound and beaten,
Hostage to the politically pious,
Soul stolen and fervor redirected
Down the path of hostile bias.
God is enervated and forgotten,
Subliminal sustenance for the morbid spirit of the rotten,
Energy for the holy war of red versus blue
Where binary blasphemy makes you a 1 or a 2.
The line in the sand is a cage in the corner,
A divide separated by an abyss,
Endless space where civility suffocates
And an arm’s length is perfect bliss.
But a black chasm speckled with supernovas
Could provide the light we need
To build bridges and find a plot
Where we can bury that old god seed.
The Breakdown
I seriously debated with myself whether I wanted to add a breakdown section to the poems I write. One of the great things about poetry is the mystique of it all, attempting to piece together what the writer’s intent was and taking pride in thinking you may have figured it out. But there’s an even more important reason not to dissect one’s own lyrics and poetry: It allows the readers to interpret the words in any way they’d like and embrace them on a much more personal level—perhaps an even deeper level—than the creator may have intended. If you ask me, that’s much more powerful, lasting, and important than any logical reduction.
With that said, I’ve decided to go ahead and break it down anyway. There are some things I wish to discuss, and you can always look away if you’d rather not know more, tempting as it always is to keep reading.
Let’s start with the obvious: this poem is about replacing religion with politics—or turning politics into religion, however you’d like to approach it. Perhaps this was bound to happen over time, though it seems to have accelerated at breakneck speeds over the past seven years or so. I’d like to hope the danger in this is obvious, but it may be hard for many to see. The separation of church and state is, in my opinion, one of the best concepts humans have ever enacted. We cannot have a government that strips us of our individuality and decides what we’re allowed to think. We cannot have a government that determines who is allowed to participate in society based on the opinions we may hold. But this is the decline we’re tumbling down, an era where demonization of those across the aisle is a much more accepted measure of action than is conversation and debate. It seems that one thing our long-dead leaders and philosophers may have overlooked was that a political party could become a religious institution in its own right.
I consider myself an Independent though I’m a registered Democrat, and when it comes to religious affiliation, I identify as An Atheist of Sorts. I say this because judging from the poem alone you may have pegged me down as quite the opposite, and also because I want to stress that The Politically Pious is mostly a criticism of the political left. I think it is crucial that we’re able to pull away from our tribes—to maroon the mob mentality—and acknowledge when people we once respected are acting irresponsibly and illogically. I am left leaning, though many on the left would not consider me one of their own, not anymore, and that’s fine. I don’t belong to anyone other than myself. In the long term, it’s more worthwhile to speak up on that which we deem needs addressing than it is to remain quiet out of fear. Fear is not a good tool when there are important concerns that need fixing. I’ve lost many progressive friends over the last few years (separations that didn’t involve my decision), but I’ve also made new friends from strangers who appreciated my perceptions. You have to ask yourself: If a friend ditches me over a simple difference of opinion, were they ever a friend to begin with? Some losses may be worth losing, especially when who’s gained adds more encouragement and inspiration to your life. That doesn’t mean you should allow every bridge to burn, but you should determine which blazing bridges can be extinguished and which should be left as ashes in the wind.
Now let’s move on to the poem, shall we?
Stanza 1:
God is not dying
but exhaled reincarnation.
“God” is not dead,
Just inhalation left unsaid,
Confined beneath breath and bone
And veiled among the burning passion of fiery stars.
These lines are a retort those who think that god is dying or dead, the idea being that god still lives on in many of those who may consider themselves godless or irreligious, that they are acting out of a devout and tribalistic mindset although they have yet to apply the introspection required to understand exactly what they’re doing. The “burning passion of fiery stars” is more of a direct reference to those with influential power—politicians, pundits, celebrities, etc.—that use their podium to espouse their ideals and sway those who are listening—“followers,” as they’re considered on social media. Interesting how that social media classification fits in perfectly with a religious subtext.
Stanzas 2 and 3:
God is captive,
Bound and beaten,
Hostage to the politically pious,
Soul stolen and fervor redirected
Down the path of hostile bias.
God is enervated and forgotten,
Subliminal sustenance for the morbid spirit of the rotten,
Energy for the holy war of red versus blue
Where binary blasphemy makes you a 1 or a 2.
These are fairly straightforward, stanzas about the power of god being abused. The message here, in combination with the first stanza, is that when we act without thinking we can take a potentially positive faculty and flip it on its head. Such power that arises with the belief that we are acting in the service of the divine has shown throughout history to be immensely destructive when left unchecked. When we take beliefs or ideals and coat them with a protective layer of certainty, we’re guaranteed to divide ourselves from our worldly brethren—or worse, see them as enemies, infidels, that must be dealt with.
Stanza 4:
The line in the sand is a cage in the corner,
A divide separated by an abyss,
Endless space where civility suffocates
And an arm’s length is perfect bliss.
The first line here means that when you refuse to move beyond an arbitrarily set limit—politically this may mean refusing to humor an opinion that goes against what you wish to believe—then you may be locking yourself into a corner. You are unable to see all points of view and thus are unable to learn and grow. You are unable to move forward or progress. This of course creates a bigger divide that all too many welcome due to their own unbridled righteousness.
Stanza 5:
But a black chasm speckled with supernovas
Could provide the light we need
To build bridges and find a plot
Where we can bury that old god seed.
This poem could be considered a bit dark, so I thought it important to end with some hope. The “supernovas” here is a recall to our “fiery stars,” the entire stanza being a statement proclaiming that if we can allow those more evangelical influencers to go away, to leave our minds, to stop capturing our attention, then maybe that’ll allow us to reconnect with a more pure version of god (however you may define it, a subject I will cover later) and once again discover that, as humans, there is more to focus on that unites us than there is that separates us.
That’ll do it for now. If you’ve read down this far, thanks so much for your time, and I hope you didn’t dislike the experience too much.
Stay safe out there.