Good
Friday -- 3.30.18
Slouched below the gaslight,
we cast cynical shadows,
look down to question our
nervous feet.
But the road is lost in dark
irrelevance.
All that lies behind is
time-altered or forgotten.
We are deaf to the call of any
distant destination.
The word “home” no longer
possesses meaning.
Some believe our God may be
imprisoned there,
locked in an upstairs room
to which no survivor’s pocket
holds the key.
