WHEN GOD WAS STILL A BREATH

When God was still a breath, the universe trembled on the cusp of becoming

We did not arrive gently

into this century.

We were pushed through fire,

through borders drawn on skin,

through nights that smelled of metal and prayer.

Time collapsed inside us.

Five hundred years

passed through one heartbeat.

We learned history

from the weight of absence—

a father not returning,

a mother counting breaths,

a child memorising silence.

That is why

we know Jesus.

Not from stained glass,

but from the way dignity walks

toward death without resentment.

From the courage of loving

when hatred is easier.

We have carried crosses

without wood,

without witnesses.

Before God learned names,

before heaven learned division,

Shiva moved as listening—

a stillness older than fear,

a dance where nothing needed to conquer

to exist.

One sky.

Endless stars.

Then words became sharper than swords.

Revelation hardened into command.

Faith forgot how to bow

and learned how to rule.

Brothers split God

like inherited land.

Scripture was raised higher

than a crying infant.

Now the world bleeds quietly.

Babies fall before they learn language.

Wombs carry grief instead of futures.

Women are counted, judged, exchanged—

and heaven is named as the reason.

But tell me—

which God turns away from milk-stained mouths?

Which God sleeps through a mother’s scream?

Not Jesus,

who forgave the hand that killed him.

Not Shiva,

who burned ego, not flesh.

Not Allah,

whose mercy outpaces every sin.

Gods broke themselves open

to hold humanity.

Humanity now breaks humanity

to defend God.

This is the sorrow

we refuse to inherit in silence.

So we speak—

not as judges,

but as those who have buried too much.

Do not murder in Jesus’ name.

Do not dominate in Allah’s name.

Do not justify cruelty in Shiva’s name.

God does not live in temples of fear.

God lives in the breath

that survives the night.

We are not strangers.

We are one trembling family

learning—slowly—

how to love without weapons.

If faith does not protect life,

it is not faith.

It is fear

pretending to be holy.

Om Namah Shivaya

Amen

Ameen

© 2025 Balananthini Balasubramaniam. “When God Was Still a Breath.” All rights reserved.