A Story In Which We Are gods

I want to write you the best story. And I cannot do that in this world. So I wrote you another.
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I am on a planet with the rest of humanity and the everything of life. We have not ransacked this earth and have found a paradise worthy of gods. Which is good because we are. Gods, I mean. Small ‘g.’ Remnants of the divine, stardust in our lungs, God (big ‘G’) made us and said “these ones take me with them.”

So here I am and here you are and there is no language for evil or trauma or pain because we are born anew and our wonder is child-like. This is all to say that on this new planet we have not yet been given the tools to destroy each other and the land. And some may say that our humanity is taken away by this unknowing but I would argue that it is just God showing.

I have a garden here. It is part of the inheritance I will pass on to the children. Oh bless the children growing all around me. And I am mother and father and responsible for making sure they are fed before they know how to feed themselves. We all are for the future is in their bellies. Gut feelings they shall follow into adulthood, we do not encourage them to attempt to evade their callings. We just cultivate nourishment in gardens with soiled hands and pails full of water.

I was thinking about the children when I heard a knock on my door. There she was, let’s call her Kae. Big eyed and full of wonder, a child of the community, she asked to see my plants. So I take her back through the house that is ours (for what is ownership when community care is the north star?) and onto my patio. The sunlight is strong and the breeze, forgiving. Kae softly says, “they look fed, the sunflowers. They’re my favourite, you know? Every night I pray for God to watch over them and every day I can’t wait to check on them.”

This is how our children learn they are gods. They pray and they do and we never tell them they are less than everything.