“a righteous man
picks up his cross,
gathers his loss,
and walks-
reaching for the heavens,
speaking to a passerby,
talking about the afterlife
and how good Jesus is-“

meanwhile-
another baby body is bent and broken
by a father’s “bravery” to believe in something bigger
than the breaths of his boy, his girl, his new born Bethlehem-
Because
Jesus called him.

-I find it hard to believe-
that God in his glorious grace
would give you a mission, to leave their sweet faces
and depart from this place
to carry a block of wood
to witness to others
while losing your children
your wife
your love
your spirit
your humanity-
i don’t think God has called you to anything-

You’re another pompous prophet
Professing his prophecies to impressionable people
To hide the fact that you’re facing much more than you fear to mention
And that you haven’t heard the voice of the lord or felt his love’s tension
And you carry this cross, but haven’t picked the one up in your eye; you are week and feeble.
You speak of goodness
But bring nothing but sorrow
You speak of love
Yet love to hate,
You think yourself a high priest,
But you are no servant.
Let the blood of a bitten tongue
Be the pain lasting longer
Than your false song
Slowly getting stronger.