Wounded By Life
Does it resonate, rain falls the hardest when we're on parade?
Do we value Life's handouts or stranger who throws us a rope
That we have to hold onto, assist in our rescue, don't own
When we gain a sure footing. Do odds stacked against us (subdued)
Just suggest we were lucky? Do praises we proffer lift up
Our Samaritan's shining example, and call us to know
We show faith by the mercy we offer to those in our path
When they're not of our tribe, race, or caste? Do we pass by or stop?
Is security found more in barns we fill up to the top
Or the grace that we give? Is humility's profit God's wrath
Or the grace we would find? Do you think that God's Love's just a snow
Job, Life's closer to Hell, Life's best gift is your death? Still our cup
Is to drink it! It matters what faith that you think you pursue
When your God's based on fear? Is this 'God,' or do you set the tone?
Is a 'God' I invent or a 'shared God' more cursed? Am I dope
To think mercy, humility shine when one's God's not charade?
Long Tooth
February 29th in 2020
Poet's Notes:
(1) Luke 10:25-37 The parable of the good Samaritan.
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