Unanswered Questions- rejj ©

Am I manifesting destiny
or is destiny made manifest in me?
She holds the mirror to me
and tells me
I am God,
but how can I be God
when Jesus,
looks like Mel Gibson?
If I am God,
if God is me,
then God is a black feminist
who does taekwondo
and hates my boss as much as I do,
God is fragile
and crooked,
with toes that overlap,
God cheats at cards
and never wins the lottery.
Where is perfection?
I’m no omniscent power
and this world
couldn’t possible be my creation
with cowboy presidents
and war among nations,
but she holds the mirror to me
and tells me God is in me
like the seed of a mango
nestled deep in the folds
of my flesh and fused bone,
God is beneath my breastplate,
the spark of spirit,
the solid gold flecks in my soul,
the conscious of my higher self,
the part of me
that loves me
even when I’m looking in the mirror and seeing
everything but God.
Every complicated flaw
that makes me who I am,
but who is God
to nest in me?
Who is God
and what does she want with me?
Is this like reality TV,
another shot at humanity,
this time without all the fanfare
or being nailed to a tree.
Does she want to know me?
What it’s like to be me?
Or does she want me to know her,
or at least that she’s there with me,
in me,
when I am blinded
by the mess we live in
on the daily,
the gap between who we are
and who we were born to be.
If God is freedom,
why don’t I feel free,
except in the quiet moments
of unexplained joy,
the stirring within,
like the seed of her
taking root in the heart of me,
an unsettling grip of peace,
a lightening flicker
illuminating life beyond
the boundaries of me,
but then I’m back to normal
and still wondering about God
and why she would stick me with these crooked teeth.