Comparative Religion

In my Good Book
a lot is left to imagination.

You attach a tag called “faith”
to every stone and garbage can.

For you, belief is as percussive
as a bowling ball fired through those trashcans.

Is that racket what you call your Creator?
I’ve heard worse, smaller names.

I cannot imagine the depth
of such bomb crater hymns.

It’s not up to me to police
the rituals you choose.

It’s not up to me to pretend
I believe in everything at once.

A deity as certain and as loud as yours
demands you frame your devotion in steel.

I’m more of a water man
enslaved to a God with little rigidity.

Who gets to say which is the right one?
Each of us.  Each deluded one of us.