It is so easy to name *those people* Those people are clearly not me. I would never be like Rod or Michael or that father and stepmother who tortured and killed their son and buried him under a cement slab. I would not be the mother who didn*t miss him for two years. Not me. Yet all are tragic figures of tragic human systems, which took years to get to where they are. It did not happen overnight. I know I am equally capable of doing the self-serving, rationalizing things each of these have accomplished. Even among the blooming flowers and nesting birds. When I can know this (God-willing I know this) I have a place to begin.
Those people who believe the world will end
In a week and a half,
Those people
Know we are in the Time of Tribulation,
The Rapture will come
On May 21.
Somehow this morning
It seems right.
I wonder if
It will come sequentially
Across time zones.
I am glad the Bishop is visiting
This Sunday,
Will bless my office
For its remaining week.
This week the flowers bloom
Birds sing
The sparrows have their nest ensconced
In the gutter.
The Tribune has placed three articles
Of human cluelessness and tragedy
On the exact same page:
The next chapter of the former governor;
The continuing saga of the inner city priest;
The boy killed in anger and buried
Under a cement slab,
Not missed for two years.
Each article is preceded by years and years
And years
Of human tragedy,
Perhaps the Time of Tribulation.
I do not believe the Bible
Can name the exact time
Of the Second Coming
Or who will be Raptured.
Today it seems the Time of Tribulation
Might wait for the trees to flower
The clematis to vine upwards,
Might wait for the focus to be
Completely elsewhere
Set aside
Hidden in the middle section
Of a daily paper,
On one page which can missed completely
Covered over by the news
Of the new reality TV show
Contestants chosen by judges blindfolded
So they won*t be distracted
By appearance.
Today it seems May 21st
Might be right.
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