Between Belief and Death
The
smell of damp earth
Inside
the grey green light
Her
eyes adjusting to near twilight
Inside
a cold hole in the ground
She
lays the finishing touch on the body
She
knows this is forever
How
will his mother
Make
it through tonight?
Where
will his disciples
Lay
their heads now?
Will
they run away?
Or
will they stay?
Will
they help us?
To
get past the absence
Of
Jesus, who did miracles,
Yet
lies here?
Before
me stretched out,
On
a slab, cold
So
very cold,
She
thinks about today
And
yesterday and the events
Of
this whole week
How
is he here?
How
is he not here, now?
I
want to stay with him,
But
it is just a body,
In
a tomb,
That
they will seal up later today,
My
Lord, why have you gone away?
The Real Things in Life Aren’t Free
Prison
is a real thing
Yet,
I have never been there,
I
know people who have
None
of which was their fault,
They
were in the wrong place
At
the very wrong moment
I
have been in accidents
Again,
most not my fault,
But
always in the wrong space
At
the moment where wrong finds me
Then
there is bankruptcy,
That
blows through
The
lives of several I know,
Once
more, not that they
Did
major wrong, but it found them
Disease,
homelessness, unemployed,
All
come to crumple up lives
That
were once shiny and new,
When
looking down from
Your
tower of tolerance
Remember
to forbore
That
which you may not
Have
had or gone through
Before
you say boo
To
your neighbor
Who
wants to know you too
No comments:
Post a Comment