I want my slice of pie in the sky as much as the next guy.
Lift me up above the mess of mortal life
with it's problems of depression, death,
and pointless arguments with my wife
that just seem to highlight my brokenness.
So please Jesus, reserve my room
because I think I want to come soon,
you see I'm tired of this shhhhhhhhhoot
me on a rocket to the moon
so that I can be closer to that place
where they say there is no sorrow in their face,
where parents do not sell their children for greenbacks
because the institutions that bend their backs until they don't know how to stand up straight
assume it must be fate
and forget the sacred vow of family
But who am I kidding?
My altruistic words are papier-mache
that burn in an instant when confronted with reality.
Examine my existence and you know
I'm much more concerned with my finality
than her rape-filled nights driven by my consumeristic causality
On Sunday I live an alternate duality
on bended knee in cushioned chairs
surrounded by polite hellos, bad coffee and other extemporaneous frivolity
the pastor's words that plea for me to believe
in I'm not sure what because "I could sing of your love forever"
sounds like a song more for afternoon tea
than the hopeless, massacred, abandoned plea
of that girl who was/is violated in a way that was never meant to be
So I don't believe in your heaven,
that allows you to escape from here, from now, from her
because my Jesus came into now and whispered
"THE KINGDOM OF GOD HAS COME NEAR!"
Promises of eternity extend an invitation
to love and lay down your life in your liberation
to sit with her who has never known love
and love him who has hurt without waiting for his admittance of violation.
Don't waste your life waiting for the pearly gate.
If you're looking for heaven come walk the narrow road
where we redefine who is great
climb down the ladder of success and power
into the alleys, the brothel, the slum
where Jesus weeps and waits for his Church
to leave it's ivory tower
and bring heaven on earth.
