A Poem to Remind Us Who We Are

I spent a good chunk of today writing and editing an article on Artificial Intelligence for a magazine in our denominational orbit. As usual, there was too much to say and not nearly enough space in which to say it. A lot of words were left on the cutting floor, including a poem that I recently came across that I had hoped to find a way of including in my article. I joked to my congregation last Sunday that I would love to be the kind of person who understands and appreciates poetry but that, alas, I am not. I said that most poetry, stubbornly, eludes me.

Most, but not all. This poem likely says more in 133 words than I managed to say in 1200. At least it says it more poignantly, evocatively, achingly, and beautifully. It’s by Aaron Belz and it’s called “Things Artificial Intelligence Can’t Do.”

Stare for 25 minutes at a blank screen.
Write half a poem and give up.
End up walking down to the bus stop bench,
sit strangely erect, look dead
into the winter sun. Hate itself.
Resent the apparent happiness of others.
Miss its daughter. Go back in time.
Wish it had been a better dad.
Leave church after 15 minutes even though
it needed nothing more than the company
of the faithful. Even though it needed
the Word of assurance, the taste of God’s
blood in its mouth. Drive home cold,
order a pizza. Feed itself. Numb itself.
Shut itself down and dream of love
lost, of a girl refusing to speak,
of all that beauty slipping into ether,
nor can it remember kissing her blue
forehead in a Los Angeles funeral home.

Image source.