Let givers of flying lessons
whose answers for famine
and genocide come easy
as ventriloquism
learn someday to forego
those pious voices thrown
as if from beyond the stars,
and so make way for a time and life
when this planet celestial
and earthly sees even the least
of its children grow into beliefs
humane enough
with sky stories true enough
to live this one.
Let then the sun’s own person
hovering above
the lowliest rose that ever was
declare all petals and pollen
the mother of god.