All God's Poems

If in the end

A lightning bolt arrives

And truth shines clear as pain

I pray my friends

We’ll all have got it right

Or right won’t matter

I’ve heard it said that

We’re all God’s poems

But the problem is Poetry’s dead

Nobody reads it but the poets who write it

Theologians just circling their heads

When I still pray

The voices in my head

Roar like suffering

And I can’t say

I feel you like I did

On that old church carpet trembling

It’s all a mess

A tangle of past lives

Versions of me

Who lived and who died

There is no test

Everything is Why?

And Why keeps blooming

I’ve heard it said that

We’re all God’s poems

But the problem is Poetry’s dead

Nobody reads it but the poets who write it

Theologians just circling their heads

I am God’s first draft

Tossed in the trash

A thread that led nowhere too fast

But maybe, just wait

Before the end of the day

I’m pulled from the bottom

She flattens the creases

Revisions and rewrites

And some masterpiece is

born

Yeah maybe

Cos’ I still believe

We’re all God’s poems

But the problem is Poetry’s dead

Nobody reads it but the poets who write it

Theologians just circling their heads