I wouldn’t.
Not really, anyway.
I could wipe out painfully
cliched poverty or
rid the planet of hubris
or make airline travel free.
But why would I take away
a chance for someone to
learn the joy of giving,
to learn humility,
to learn to work for
etickets to Paris,
or Prague,
or Portland?
I wouldn’t
because there exists
nothing more beautiful
than a sunset near the water
a glacier in the morning,
the San Francisco skyline from
across the bay.
Yes, wars and congress
are terrible reminders
that it’s not a perfect place
But I wouldn’t change the
world, if it meant I
could not experience grace.
Juxtapose the bad in life,
like traffic jams when you’re in a hurry
and men who hold grudges for more than
a fortnight
and the same stupid racism that seeps out
in drunken baseball brawls
to
that moment you passed your driving test,
or were forgiven or gave forgiveness
or saw the beautiful difference in
another face and said, “I can’t wait
to learn something from you.”
It’s altogether too tempting
to say, “Change the world,”
then conveniently give up the hunt
for a better, happy life.
If I could change the world,
I really wouldn’t, at least not much–
I’d say, “I’m sorry that it’s not just
right,” then try my best to lend a hand
and pray to God
He’d fix it.
Word Play 