The Sixth Day

“My son, this is his blood you drink”

he told you, long before you learned to ask,

or grew a taste for the forbidden fruit.

“We must cleanse you of your sins”

he guilted you, long before your hands were stained

with all but holy water.

But as your life went on,

you learned to live by His word

and respect Him in fear.

This trodden Catholic path

became your changing of faith

in the passing of years.

little brother walks alone,

sees cruel world, can't understand

the vacant stares, crash of sounds,

piercing caress, violent lights.

this is no god of mine

who lets my little brother live in fear.

And on the sixth day man created God

to help see things we can't explain,

to use His laws to cast our blame,

and to wage our battles in His name.

“Into Satan's flame for those who don't believe”

you read, as you let your lord and savior

die for all your sins,

but so many wear the crown of thorns each day

upon their heads, to sacrifice and break their backs for

daily bread.

But as you search for him,

you learn to trust what you think

and shun what you feel.

But never had you felt so alone,

for that which lies beyond your grasp

is not real.

childhood dreamer drives alone

in daddy's car for one last time.

he twists the wheel, flashes the lights,

hops the curb, says goodnight.

this is no jesus christ

who lets a father bury his own son.

And if your lord were to descend

and walk among us once again,

would he want us to condemn?

the smallest angel cries alone

as the cancer makes it way into her bones,

and on two hands she counts the days

until the smallest angel flies away.

not any lord of mine…