This poem was written when I was asked to appear as one of the guest artists for a performance at a Lenten event for The First Christian Church in Omaha.
There’s a sparse and spartan void
and in it echoes a real steal
where, hands who shun the touch
of feelings that have no path to profit
offer sacks of stones for you to
turn into nourishment.
Gnarled hands whose encouragements
serve their purposes;
“take our offer, get one meal,
get one free,
it’s a devil of a deal.
it’s all hand built
and cheaper than ever!”
Then they say “come with us
to the top of the House
act like us,
think like us
own the moment,
be a demon of the soundbites
and from up here you will
see how you are better than
the little people,
who you can rule
and have everything you deserve…
…and everything you don’t,
it will be so cooooool”.
But, through the clouds you see
the temples to financial avarice shimmer
and shudder with immoral greed
that must feed and feed but fail to feel.
Where weaker eats meeker
and all the chariots are too large
and that making breads from rocks
is neither sensible or sane
and the walls of the palaces are
buckling at the strain
and nobody knows what to do
because though they tempt
they have joined us in the wilderness
and it’s an uncomfortable terrain
But you see this kingdom that you’re offered
is a sham and a shame
and the wander in the desert
has a purpose; to learn to
live simply again.
So you’ll tough it out in the present desert,
leave the sand to dust your feet
and let the branches sing Spring
from solid trees which sprang from seeds
who rooted in deeper, slower ground
which has no need for angels to catch them,
to demonstrate their faith
that they will, undeserved,
be saved from dashing on the rocks.