If it was another quiver in your arrow;
If it was networked into reason;
If it was in every fibre of your being;
If it was the dark circles around your eyes;
If it was a question of your existence;
If you had a chance to write your eulogy;
If there was nothing left to match intensity;
If you shift gears zombie-like to unthinking;
If it was the beginning and the end.
If it was a never-ending cyclic mode;
If you could be a dispassionate observer;
If there was ever any question of choices;
If the command or request borders on insanity;
If it was no longer a question of parameters;
If all dreams come to nothing in the end;
If you were left with a pocketful of life;
If you could touch your soul and sniff your goodness;
If you suddenly remembered your third birthday;
If you were to be sacrificed for convictions;
If your life has indeed been a travesty;
If you were drunk on ego and big on yourself;
If images of pets, friends, and family flashed past you;
If in the end you’re trying so hard to be you;
If you saw the creases on your television face;
If you were finally shedding the restrictive;
If you were beyond any pigeon-holing;
If it was starting to fit in somehow…
Tell me.
Would you – could you – die for ‘God’?

© A. Vardaraj — All Rights Reserved

Author’s notes: I wrote this in the aftermath of an attack that killed seven people, including the attacker. It was perpetuated in the name of religion and brought about by religious intolerance, and I couldn’t understand it. Twelve years later, I still don’t get it.