would it make a difference,

while sitting there, in your chair of comfortable indifference,

if suddenly there appeared –

writing on the wall?

 

would the message make its way past the breakers of your reluctance?

storm the beach of your indecision?

overcome your fortress of doesn’t matter?

how, exactly, would you reconcile emotions considered martyrs for pursuit of religion?

 

you say you’ve found the way –

the truth –

the life –

and yet within the walls of your strong tower,

no out-stretched arms –

no embrace of compassion.

 

ironic,

don’t you think?

invitations sent –

celebration of solidarity –

but communion,

not realized?

 

perhaps more apropos of conviction –

application of supposed intent.

 

so much more convincing,

don’t you agree?

monologues extolling the virtues of monotheism,

rather than charades and door prize exhibitions of implied Christianity…

my feelings –

alien to you as much as – secure is to timid,

shatter like shards of glass against your narcissistic walls…

 

how awesome,

it must be –

being  you;

how – required!

 

pompous as an apostrophe –

owning possession,

and the power to unite –

yet completely – unaffected!

 

and while you dangle effortless,

unencumbered –

I remain tied to the weight of my own culpability.

 

necessary,

you are –

more than any imagined ownership.

 

for without you,

meaning is lost;

and I become irrelevant as a useless preposition –

alone  –  without the companion of my most reluctant ,

yet oh so necessary –

object…

  and then those days roll in like Summer storms. 

thunder so loud, 

yet welcome distraction from the silence of all alone.

and rain –

heavy as black in a midnight sky.

 

it seems,

in those moments of oppression, 

there is no hope.

what purpose faith in a faceless god?

surely there is no recompense earned merely from ritual of believe.

 

peace –

you proclaim.

comfort from the pain. 

but somehow – 

when –

remains unknown.

 

and as you kneel to offer prayer for salvation, 

voices whisper eulogies to care. 

in those days, 

when life becomes just too much to bear,

you realize how it feels –

becoming undone. 

 

what then? 

if compassion serves purpose – 

glue to mend the broken – 

and the cupboard bare, 

do the pieces of promise just get swept away? 

 

sometimes, 

no matter our intention,

we end up unassigned –

unnecessary as the refuse of was,

thrown with deliberation,

into  the insignificance of – not...