The Gods We Make
Earth is full of Heaven’s glory
Heaven’s Earth in full
God’s no fool with a pyrite ring
but everyman’s pure gold
to airy thinness He is beat
a sheen for all creation
better beat than tarnished here
or never mined elation
never mind what can’t be felt
or seen with naked eye
we trample treasures unaware
and kick the ash to sky
we gather haloes shed in haste
cold and man-made rings
choke on coal dust as we try to
find a man with wings
.
Rachel Barga Simpson lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband and three children. She holds a bachelor’s degree in English Literature, a master’s in Speech-Language Pathology, and zero accreditations in parenthood. Her poetry can be found in Ever Eden Literary Journal, In Parentheses, and here.
Amethyst Review 