Did God Know

‘Yet what wert thou to him, who knew his works,/ Before creation form’d them…’ Christopher Smart, 1722-71, On the Omniscience of the Supreme Being


Did God Know

Did God know the pattern of the zebra
would come from water, plastic mud -

did He dream the peacock feather,
starling throat, burning tiger skin -

white bear matching melting fur
with snow at the end of the world.

Did He think the lily skin,
or thistles’ Einstein hair -

new leaves blinking, shining,
palms still damp with spirit.

Did He invent poetry’s silver bones,
music’s flexible mercury skeleton -

silently breeding words, sounds, notes -
each one the product of a million years.


Was He amazed by us,
bred from His germ -

as our child’s face startles,
haunted by our very eyes -

tugging of umbilical wire -
groping passionflower arms.

Did He know these voices
would come in black night,

calling His name; pleading, trying
to surrender freedom for justice -

peace, healing, beauty, love,
company among dead stars -

not sure anymore if He had invented
them, or they Him in the big scheme.


Had He planted the seed of love -
His own heart, original life kernel

beating under earth, spawning all -
waiting anxious as a good gardener;

dreaming the flower,
inventing loneliness.