Who Are We? Poem by Glen Kappy

'Naked came I from my mother's womb,
and naked I shall return.' —Job 1: 21

Who are we anyway?

Think stick bug
shown close up
and moving slowly
on a branch.

For another shape
think stink bug
butt up and picking its way
on the ground.

Not that we're nothing.
But take away
all the thought
all the airy nothing

that surrounds us
like a cloud of gnats
that blurs from clarity
that keeps us from asking

what are we anyway?

and what remains
are vases
holding spirits
utterly vulnerable.

While God
who cares
inclines toward us
and waits.