I Heard the Guys

I Heard the Guys

(“And let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9)

I heard the guys on death row yelling, “this
might be the last Armageddon”
while I wondered what it meant to people busy dying.

When the shades are drawn with only dusty rays
landing on the ledges of hope, we appeal to the
End of Days
to finalize our anxieties.

Yet the skinny kids across the neighbor fence
with bellies that ache and eyes too dry to read
play ball against the splinters, curse the stifling winters.
We scold their language and turn the news up louder.

I heard the gathered in the pews say, “this might
be the prophesied Doomsday “
while I wondered what it meant to people busy crying.

When the stained glass is forgotten, bread is only shared
with the brightest and best, the Greatest Hope for a purer
land we envisioned with a single tribe of hats and ribbons,
atomic lyrics and first world sanctity.

I heard the Son on the Cross-piece say, “this is
the Day of Redemption”. When the world did violence
he invited child and childless to

A pierced life so bright only the guys on death row could see.