God missed the Holocaust , what makes you think
he's watching over the job interview tomorrow
Atomic bombs dropped over Japan while he was off
On paid leave while Stalin purged Russia
In conference while children starve
People freeze on streets
Bleed needlessly
I'm looking for help and to tell you the
truth his track record is a bit mediocre to me

Fiery Sun virga o'er flaxen cover
The wishful phoneme of rain-
has come over without a sound
Crusted , fragmented farm shares ,
storm ditches turned to stone
The choking dust of August collects ,
covering homesteads in barren misery-
and stunted harvest
Hopes for the chilled rain of November
in the Dog Days of Summer have long
since gone

When I can no longer discern the path
when I am seeking a seer's looking glass
I walk miles of desert alone, travel years from home
to stand hot or cold, in a wilderness, fragile or strong
in storms, sun sweltered and windblown.
I believe in fire, the burning into ashes reborn
look for defining lines, watch for the telling signs
I listen for the music of words, spoken softly sweet
for love notes, tucked in heart, to keep.

A fresh start,
close of old business.
Father Time
reborn as a babe.
Promise made
and rarely kept.
Dreams are ground
to fine white powder
beneath the stone
of new beginnings.
Boy becomes madman,
father becomes ghost.
The haunting begins.