by Daphne Alexopoulou

I once knew a man who loved earthquakes.
Never have I ever felt God closer, he said, than in the big Mexican earthquake.
The Earth heaving and shaking
and all I could feel was a huge worshipful joy as surrender filled my being.
I thought, that’s because you don’t have children.
I thought, not being God, how do I know this is true.
How do I know when surrender comes,
that it doesn’t just happen unopposed,
like you say
and imagination or belief have nothing to do with it.
You just surrender
as you are, raw, naked, primal, he said.
Death can be an Ah, okay, this is easy.

I don’t know anyone who survived a volcano, don’t know anyone who comes alive at the thought of becoming fire.
Terrible fire, beautiful fire,
the colour of the pits of hell,
like this gift from Mt Aetna
to the prophecy peddlers
and Earth Changes enthusiasts.

God knows who His prophets are,
God knows His own cues.
Me, I worry about the children.