The New Creature 

~ from THE BROKEN POEM and Other Strange Ideas About God

by John Berry

Long after the Universe began to bunch  

Itself in small fists, and take the first  

Wild swings at the retreating emptiness  

Of heaven, people came. 

And not just the ones you’re thinking  

Of now, but many creatures, great and  

Small, each with their own special  

Worries for God. 

None was without their oddment ~ roots  

And fins and teeth, feathers and legs, the  

Seasonal mobility of seeds, and stones  

Seated firmly in their chairs. 

And none so rudimentary as to be  

Casually heaped like cheap coppers in a  

Greedy dragon’s lair of golden living  

Things ~ a hoarder God was not.  

God loved each precious, living jewel  

And spread the wealth of life from star  

To star and planet to planet. Some, like  

The ones you were thinking of just now  

Misunderstood God’s love, and  

Consequentially, began to think very  

Highly of themselves.  

‘They certainly think very  

Highly of themselves  

Don’t they?’ Darkness said 

To God who replied 

‘YES. AND IT WASN’T  

EASY GIVING THEM  

JUST THE RIGHT  

AMOUNT OF   

IMAGINATION.  

IT’S DELICATE WORK 

LET ME TELL YOU.’ 

God often said things like that, and  

Darkness, being Darkness, and  

Unimpeachably blunt never shied from  

Revealing the obvious to God. 

‘Hmph. Try dialing in  

The virtue of shadow! 

Delicate work, indeed!’ 

As all the stories go, there were rivalries  

in Heaven. 

‘VIRTUE OF SHADOW!?’ 

God coughed, ‘REALLY  

DARKNESS, IS THAT  

THE BEST YOU CAN DO? 

They’d go on like that for a few forevers  

If Silence wasn’t there to shush them 

Though she was just as apt to throw  

Some bark of her own sometimes  

Like a long and devoted companionship  

Of trees. 

Anyway, Life: 

Once you get the hang of molding  

Something out of clay, it gets easier with  

Practice, and this was just as true for  

God as anyone else.  

Even breathing life into form becomes  

Something you grow used to, if it can  

Ever be said one can grow accustomed  

To awe. 

But in all the best ways any artist knows  

The challenges and difficulties of saying  

Something new, this was what  

confronted God.  

‘HMMM.’  

God pondered  

The lump of clay.  

‘What’s this one going to  

Be?’ God’s friend Gravity  

Asked.  

‘BI-PED. HUMANOID.’ 

God said, rolling and  

Kneading the clay.  

‘Oh! Sort of like the great  

Apes? I like them!’  

Gravity said.  

‘WELL, NOT EXACTLY 

THOUGH I LIKE THEM  

VERY MUCH, TOO’  

Said God, squeezing.  

‘I’VE BEEN THINKING  

ABOUT HOW BEAUTY  

SAID WE NEED AN  

ANIMAL WHO SEES THE  

SHAPE OF HER FACE IN  

THE CLOUDS.’ 

‘Is that hard to do?’  

Gravity asked. ‘I mean 

She’s right there, and  

There, and there, and over  

There.’ he said, pointing in  

Every direction.  

‘HARDER THAN YOU  

MIGHT THINK.’  

God said, ‘HERE  

LET ME SHOW YOU. 

DO YOU SEE THE  

KINGFISHER ON 

THAT BRANCH OVER  

THERE? WATCH 

WHAT HE DOES.’ 

The kingfisher dropped from the branch 

And lilted down the river like a flame  

Dancing on a wick.  

‘See!’ Gravity exclaimed.  

‘There she is again!’ 

‘RIGHT, YOU ARE.’  

God said. ‘EXCEPT THAT 

THE KINGFISHER ISN’T  

AWARE OF HIS BEAUTY.  

THE KINGFISHER IS  

JUST THE KINGFISHER. 

HE ISN’T TRYING TO BE  

BEAUTY OR ANYONE  

ELSE.’ 

‘Ok. I think I understand.  

And these bi-ped  

Humanoid thingies will?’  

Gravity asked. 

‘YES, AND THAT  

PRESENTS 

A LOT OF PROBLEMS.’ 

‘Really? How so?’ 

God deftly molded the unmistakable  

Shape of the Rainbow Bird, held it out to  

Gravity, and said  

‘THINK OF IT LIKE THIS.  

IF OUR FRIEND, THE 

KINGFISHER KNEW  

HOW BEAUTIFUL  

HE WAS, WHAT DO YOU  

SUPPOSE HE’D DO?’ 

‘Well, I guess he’d want  

To show his beauty 

All the time.’ Gravity  

Answered. 

‘BUT HE ALREADY  

DOES. YOU EASILY SAW  

HIS BEAUTY, AND HE  

DIDN’T EVEN TRY.’ 

God said, sharpening  

The red clay beak. 

'Oh, right, I didn't think

Of it like that.

So, wait, then …  does he  

Know our friend Beauty 

After all?’ Gravity asked.  

‘MORE LIKE SHE  

KNOWS HIM …  

INTIMATELY, MUCH  

THE WAY YOU KNOW 

RAINDROPS AND SNOW 

BUT THEY DON’T KNOW  

YOU.’  

Gravity thought for a moment about  

What God had said. 

‘Like when I’m making  

Syrup, and no matter  

What, the drips of sap  

Never laugh at my jokes? 

Darkness laughs.  He says  

I’m talking to myself.’ 

God chuckled warmly, touching Gravity 

on the shoulder, saying 

‘EXCEPT THEY DO. 

THEY HEAR YOU, AND 

I SUPPOSE IF THE JOKE 

IS FUNNY, THEY LAUGH 

QUITE CLEARLY.’ 

This was very puzzling for Gravity  

And he said so.  

‘This is very puzzling.’ 

He said.  

God continued.  

‘WHEN THE SAP RISES 

IN THE MAPLES, AND YOU 

PUT IN YOUR SPILES 

WHAT HAPPENS?’  

God asked.  

Gravity became very serious, absently 

Touching The Black Hat on his head.  

‘I tell them how much  

The Earthen Mother loves  

Them and no matter  

Where they go they’re  

Always welcome home.’ 

‘AND WHAT DO THEY  

DO?’ God asked.  

‘They come home.’ 

‘PRECISELY.’ said God. 

‘OUR FRIEND THE 

KINGFISHER DOES THE  

SAME WITH BEAUTY.  

FOR THAT MATTER  

THE LILT OF HIS  

FLIGHT IS ALSO HIS  

RESPONSE TO YOU.  

THE KINGFISHER 

IS BLESSED BECAUSE  

HE DOESN’T HAVE TO  

SAY IT AND SAYING  

THE THINGS YOU DO  

NOT HAVE TO SAY 

WEAKENS YOUR TALK.’  

God wrote that last part down, intending  

To gift it to a poet in the future.  

‘NOW, WHERE WERE  

WE? AH! RIGHT, THE  

PROBLEM WITH  

HUMANOIDS.’  

God held up the lump of clay.  

‘GRAVITY, IMAGINE I  

MADE A NEW SORT OF  

CREATURE WHO NOT  

ONLY RECOGNIZED  

YOUR FACE, BUT ALSO  

THOUGHT THEY KNEW  

YOUR HEART?’ 

‘I suppose that would be  

Nice.’ 

‘REALLY? WOULD IT? 

WHAT IF WHAT THEY  

THOUGHT WAS IN YOUR  

HEART WAS WRONG?  

WHAT IF THEY  

DECIDED BEAUTY  

LIVED IN UGLY  

THINGS OR THAT I  

PROMISED UGLINESS  

IF THEY DID NOT  

BOW TO MY WILL. 

WHAT IF THEY  

THOUGHT WHAT YOU  

DO, GRAVITY, YOU DO  

BY FORCE INSTEAD OF  

KINDNESS?’ 

‘But, none of that is true!’ 

Gravity objected, shaking.  

‘NO, BUT IT TAKES  

IMAGINATION TO … 

WELL, IMAGINE IT, AND  

THAT’S WHAT BEAUTY  

IS ASKING ME TO GIVE  

TO THIS LUMP OF CLAY.’  

‘But, why would she want  

You to do that? It sounds  

Terrible!’ 

‘MAYBE, BUT IMAGINE 

IF ALL OF CREATED  

LIFE NEVER EVEN  

CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF  

YOUR FACE, OR HAD  

THE SLIGHTEST  

INKLING OF YOUR  

PRESENCE.  

IMAGINE IF NO ONE  

SAW THE SHAPES  

OF THINGS IN CLOUDS  

OR NEVER INVENTED  

THE WORD ‘SOUGH’ TO  

DESCRIBE WIND IN THE  

PINES.  

IMAGINE IF NO ONE  

HAD ANY IDEA OF THE  

DANCE LIGHT AND  

DARKNESS DO AT  

DAWN AND DUSK.  

IMAGINE SILENCE 

WITH NO PLACE TO GO 

WITH NO ONE  

LISTENING 

AND NO ONE TO HEAR  

HER PERFECT VOICE.  

THESE THINGS TAKE  

IMAGINATION  

WONDER AND AWE  

AND JUST LIKE 

BEAUTY THEY ARE  

THE MOST WONDERFUL  

AND DANGEROUS  

THINGS OF ALL.’  

‘I see why you’re troubled.’ 

Gravity said, touching  

God’s hand.  

For a long time Gravity and God sat  

Quietly; God, absently kneading the  

Clay, and Gravity holding The Black Hat  

Of Future Labors in his hands, picking  

Off lint and bits of leaves, thinking.’ 

‘Would they laugh 

At my jokes?’  

Gravity suddenly asked.  

‘EH? WHAT’S THAT? 

LAUGH AT YOUR JOKES?’  

God said, looking up.  

‘Yes, like the Dogs and  

The Kookaburra do?’  

‘HA! YES, I SUPPOSE 

THEY MIGHT. BETTER  

PERHAPS, BECAUSE  

THEY WOULD  

UNDERSTAND WHY.’ 

Gravity thought for a moment  

Then said  

‘Then, I think you should  

do it.’  

Bio:  John Berry lives and writes in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia with his wife, Brenda, and their yorkie companion, Molly. A woodworker since his early teens, John teaches private woodworking classes now, and officiates weddings with his wife through their company, Sacred Celebrations. After putting aside a lifelong addiction to alcohol at the age of 47, John rediscovered his first love, poetry, and published his first chapbook, Wobbly Man, in 2016. His second and third collections: Medicine, and The Lawnmower Poems were published by Foothills Publishing in 2017 and 2019, and his work has appeared in publications such as The Blue Mountain Review, The Sow’s Ear Review, The Green Silk Journal and various anthologies. His poem, Human Beans, won an honorable mention in the Thomas Merton Poetry of the Sacred contest in 2021, and was published in Parabola magazine.