Poetry on Odyssey: Where God Was Too Weary To Stay A God
We fail to see that
Our home is a sinking ship,
Vanishing slowly.
They failed to see that
This place was a sinking ship
Inevitably doomed.
So we embark on journeys together.
Come in, be ready, and go to the town
Where dreams are too tired and lost to stay dreams
Where the house was too worn to stay a house
Where God was too weary to stay a God.
Israel may have called this Babylon.
Follow the dirt road that only has dirt
Into the town where our hearts won't be the same.
The road to the once-civilization
Which only has at mind our concept of loss
Of control. Only to realize that people
Here in the town lived in a sinking ship,
So tormented by a tsunami, from
Both outside and within, and all they did
Was resist. It may have been futile.
It may have been an effort beyond what
Human beings have been capable of,
Without the help of God. Now the old town
Is a ruined beauty of disheveled grace,
Too pained to even stomach the concept
Of moving on.
Natural plastics, sustainable waste,
Nightmare-tormented, God-forsaken, it's
Too hard to see the sun also rises
Here. The cellar of the house beckons with
Only silence, and the screams of ghosts bounce
Off the walls, falling on nobody's ears.
The town, the sunken ship, a bleak lesson
Of what? Of us. Of our town, ship, and home.
That was them, I think, but it's also us.
A soon-to-be dead civilization,
Where all we futily do is resist.
