The Goddess

Bismillah 
  I say under
my breath
 when the mist
of uncertainty
  rises into
my chest

I don't think
I believe in:
a god, gods,
a deity, a man -
born 2000 years
ago in a world
that is three
times
that age.

I don't think
I
believe in
the
universe, an
inter-con-
nect-ed-ness
of spirit-s

But then
 why do I say
insha-allah 
when hopeful,
or resilient?

Or masha-allah,
at the site of a
baby born outrage-
ously moral

and alhamdu
lillah,
in the dark
hours of
the night?

when I wake
to find my heart
beat-ing
of its own accord
drum-ming
a silent rhythm
in my chest

I don't believe
in your God. I
can't. But I
do believe in
mine:

Compassionate. Woman.
Loving. Tolerant. Wild.
Free. Tender. Stern. In-
tuitive. Out-landish and
Funny. Oh, so funny.

A
Resistor
in the face of
your existence
designed to
oppress
mine.

A light. A guide.
A miracle.

G-race.