Imago Dei
We cannot help but be students
of our fathers’ disciplines,
mine an avid disciple
of scripture and royalty.
What else can I confess?
That I was a child? I carved myself
into the civil shape of a knife.
Pared until only the edge remained.
I killed things because I could.
Magnifying glass and the sun
and the silent crawling things that
could not fight back.
That had no choice but to only
hope for mercy. Unable themselves
to beg. I confess. I was desperate
to know that I was not alone. Every day
we are made once more in the image of God.
Every day God asks, Cruelty again?
And every day we say, Oh Lord of Heaven,
please, yes, yes. Cruelty again.
Copyright © 2024 by Nora Hikari. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 8, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.
“Like all children, I was subject to an upbringing. Subject here means both ‘subjected to,’ and ‘the subject of,’ as one is a subject of royalty. The first lessons a child learns are about power and violence: who wields, who is wielded, who is struck, who strikes. We as children must know where these lines are drawn for survival. Where is our first school? The school of our fathers, who carve us into their image. Fathers, who were themselves carved in the images of their gods, in turn. Who will we thus carve, what cruelties thus practiced?”
—Nora Hikari
Nora Hikari
