I Saw God in San Francisco
The locals call the bay a place of grace;
You can see God when you walk Lombard Street.
The tourists say their souls have been replaced
By cable cars, crab, and veils of concrete.
But when the fog settles in and the bay
Begins to bellow, those souls disappear—
As the addicts and junkies’ skin decays
Like the undead; diseased and lost in fear.
You can see God in clouds of smoke exhaled
From lungs burnt black by chasing hope too much,
And in the corners of the city that failed,
there are people who use drugs as a crutch.
But in cathedrals of lofty redwoods,
I sat and saw God reach his great hand down
and grab the Golden Gate; beneath their hoods,
veiled from the rain, some swore they saw God frown.
By Emma Mayer
Emma Mayer is a junior double majoring in English and Communication in Colorado. She has been writing poetry ever since she could remember and believes words have the power to change the world. You can follow her on Twitter @emmamayer1996 and Instagram @__shmayerxx.