Dereliction
Friday March 21, 2008
Good Friday
Dereliction
Jesus cried, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”
Sunday’s a cinch, Lord-
what about mean days, moan mundane days,
you’re off holding revival meeting someplace far
from me,
pain day someday pays today in full.
The pills aren’t working, Lord.
My sweet Lord, you listening?
You’re American as Toyota, Lord,
My Methodist ancestors conquered the continent in your name.
Not so sure any more how the conquered ones felt about it,
happy as Tibetans under Chinese rule, maybe.
But my great grands sang “Glory, hallelujah!”
every step along the Santa Fe.
You bore them through on eagles’ wings
wars and depression and the 60s.
Me?
Folks don’t talk to the one in the chair.
Plenty of people, if they think of me
(which they don’t),
say, “He had it coming.”
They sing me a chorus of “Cabaret”
and swing out the door slinging over their shoulders
“Lemme know if you need anything”
like their eye balls don’t work.
I came out of the belly three months early, should not’ve lived.
Guess you had other plans.
(You can clue me in any time.)
First thing, Momma taught me
not to drink, and “Jesus loves me.”
You still there?
If you’re not there, my sweet Jesus, I’m done.
Nobody gets it -constant pain-
like you.
There’s only so much loving people can do,
Then it’s just me and pain,
6 on a 1-10 scale,
(get to 10, bite the stick in two)
Well, it’s 7 really,
but gimme a few deep breaths, and I can call it a 6.
What’s one point between friends, huh?
Pain?
I feel like death in the afternoon,
Fresh meat for a pride of lions,
a carcass for a pack of pit bulls.
The physical stuff ain’t the worst.
Inside, I’m worn thin like losing to cancer gets;
you wouldn’t notice, just looking,
unless you took a soul scan.
This is my 911 call, Lord, on my 9-11.
You’ve helped me before,
I’m ashamed to ask,
but I got nobody else,
I got nuthin’ else.
If you ain’t there…