I had cows. I brought feed.
I had counting and checklists.
I had wonder, each peacock’s feathers
a different shade of blue, no green exactly the same.
I had justice, a sense of right and wrong.
I had fear and paranoia. I built the ark quickly
before the clouds gathered.
I had caretaking. I stocked my wife’s favorite
pillows, my son’s blue blanket. Snacks.
I had beauty: the lions with and without manes.
I had fun: have you ever seen an anteater’s snout dance?
I had perfection, each slat of wood engineered to its right angle.
What was I missing? What was I missing?
People think God told me to build the ark to prepare for a flood.
That’s only partly true. God asked me to build the ark
so I could ask myself questions:
What am I missing? What have I not yet seen or recognized
from God’s world? What am I leaving out?
It took me a while, but when I realized I had left out
my neighbors, God said, Correct.
Then God washed the slate inside my heart clean
so I could begin again from this: