If the gods were real, what would I ask of them?
Riches, comforts, unencumbered health
A home with white walls and a courtyard with trees
A river to swim, a river to drown
A meadow to walk without pain
A release, from pain.
If the gods were real, should I bow to them or accuse
Ask them to unravel the dark knots in my belly, or to burn them all into oblivion?
Should I ask for wisdom
Or judgment?
If the gods were real I would willingly go down in their darkened valley and offer them the bloody harvest of my heart to feast upon
But they are not, are they?
The accompanying image is Marionettes Milan by Linda Butler.
In Other Words 
I guess we won’t know whether they are real or not until the end.
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Really enjoyed the poem.
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Thank you! I have always been a longform prose person, but lately, as life gets weirder and more complex, I find myself gravitating towards poetry. Glad to know this one resonated with you.
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