The God Gene

I've never seen a dog proud

because one of them, six decades ago,

went to space and died a martyr to science.

I've never seen a cat proud

because one of them, in a black coat of fur,

froze strangers in their tracks.

I've never seen a monkey proud

because its ancestors, a thousand years ago,

went to war for a god in fancy folklore.

I've never seen a hamster proud

because its grandfather, twenty years ago, 

helped three men share a Nobel, for killing him and calling it a breakthrough.

I've never seen a pigeon proud

because its grandmother, fifteen summers ago,

shat on a president's expensive shoulders.

I've never seen a bug proud

because one of its kind, once upon a time,

had a computer malfunction named after them.

I've never seen a virus proud

because its kind, for centuries,

sent thousands of humans to their graves, one deep cleanse at a time.

I've never seen a bonsai proud

because its father was a banyan,

though it barely passes for anything more than a hallway pleasantry.

I've never seen an amoeba proud

because it inhabits the very waters

artificial intelligence thirsts for every day.

I've seen us scream winning evolution, 

and pride in all of it anyway.