Feb 2017
-a prayer for Jan 24th, Day of Shame. From the year 2217,
from the service book of a future denomination
It is time for repentance,
the annual pilgrimage.
To the doors of heaven
and the odours of hell.
Let us visit your creation,
the blessed pipe that bleeds.
Let us cross the barbedwire,
let us enter the tunnel.
Let us hear the trickling stream,
let us smell your ineffable breath.
Let us visit our souls,
our inner vagrant selves.
Let us look down into the black current
and watch your great flowing face.
And through it, in it, while we watch,
we sinners recognize ourselves.
Let us visit your revelation,
our tested veins that bleed.
From the deserts of the great plains
to the drowned cities of the coasts...
Your whip on our spines
confirms the evil that we host.
from the service book of a future denomination
It is time for repentance,
the annual pilgrimage.
To the doors of heaven
and the odours of hell.
Let us visit your creation,
the blessed pipe that bleeds.
Let us cross the barbedwire,
let us enter the tunnel.
Let us hear the trickling stream,
let us smell your ineffable breath.
Let us visit our souls,
our inner vagrant selves.
Let us look down into the black current
and watch your great flowing face.
And through it, in it, while we watch,
we sinners recognize ourselves.
Let us visit your revelation,
our tested veins that bleed.
From the deserts of the great plains
to the drowned cities of the coasts...
Your whip on our spines
confirms the evil that we host.
Inspired by ****/Zelazny's novel Deus Irae, about the survivors of a devastating war who started worshipping the architect of devastation as their god, in order to make sense of their crushed situation. And by uncle Don's decision to fill his wallet by building a pipeline in vulnerable territory with religious significance. And by Don's flock of eager believers, whose descendants may find themselves in an unexpected and rather demanding world.
