Poetry

Hey God, it’s me, humanity


by Hana Paskova (M25)
Spring 2024 Issue


            24/7
I feel torn,
            24/7
I feel wrong,
            24/7
Ttime’s ticking,
            24/7
I’m not doing
anything.

anything useful,
anything purposeful,
anything helpful
for our nature,
or even humanity’s nurture.

            24/7
Why am I here?
            24/7
Why do I breathe?
            24/7
I want to scream,

but I’m left speechless,
stuck in time,
like Sisyphus uphill,
forced to move,
but never to fulfill
the task.
The crime
humanity commits onto each other
knows no limit,
I’m in its bind.

My generation seems lost,
we need “an adult”
to tell us what’s wrong.
But then we hear some of them speak
and realize that no,
this is not the authority we seek.

Is this the reason
why people choose faith?
Because no one listens
to what they have to say?

And so they pray,
hoping there’s someone above
who can hear them out
and maybe grant them
some reassurance
they’ve been craving thus far.

We all need guidance
that no one living is able to provide.
We want to rely
on some rules
to know what’s right
and what’s wrong;
but all the rules
I’ve known so far
were more than biased,
sometimes misused,
and just
weren’t right.

So tell me, God,
are you for real
or are you just a fraud
trying to steal
the last piece of humanity I got?

Are you my guide
or merely here just to soothe
my conscience
that’s trying to justify
the wrongdoings I keep seeing around me.

Please, God,
don’t make me carry
the weight of responsibility
for my own beliefs.
It’s way too heavy
and my back is bent
underneath the crimes
that would fall on my head,
were I to admit
that my beliefs
were complicit
in someone’s death.

Please, God,
I’m just a human
and tend to believe in
what I’ve been taught;
even when I know
it’s somewhat wrong.

Please, God,
they say I cannot question you.
Tell me why.
Are you scared I’d find out
that you can be wrong too?