(I was reading the first chapter of Patriarchs and Prophets a few days ago (‘entitled Why was Sin Permitted?’) and it made me think about how flaky I am. I’m stubborn with some things, but a lot of the time I’m easily swayed—it’s my nature as a people pleaser. I’ve got myself into a lot of stupid situations because I felt bad about saying ‘no’ and didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings…. I asked myself the question: would I have stood for God during the war in Heaven, or would I have been deceived by Lucifer’s words of discontent?
It was a scary thought for me, at least. Because I couldn’t answer it.)
Walk with destruction in my wake
and a shroud of darkness for cover,
spreading death and disease
and unease and decay.
It snakes along the arms
of enemies and cracks like
ancient spiderwebs so that the rot
sinks into flesh and pollutes clean blood
until black and death push through,
oozing form their pores like
the ink of a broken quill.
Women are raped in Iraq
and Afghan girls with leashes ’round their necks
dance for old men in dusty dens
and legions of children wield guns for battle
in the Congo. They’re trained to shoot and to kill.
I’ve got women being killed by their men.
Two per week. And kids getting beaten
by their mothers, until their eyes swell like plums,
lips black like leeches and only melted chocolate can hide their pain.
Earthquakes in Haiti
Tsunamis in Asia
Hurricanes to tear towns apart
and leave inhabitants destitute and dirty—
Tornadoes spin confusion in a neighbourhood and
Kills many. ‘Till no one can recognise a thing
‘Till bodies of children are encased in rubble
and graves are overturned.
The clergy rapes its children. Pastors beat their women.
Elders wanna kill all the gays.
Your God is sick
‘Cause he runs this world of ruin.
You blame him, every day
for your lives of disarray—
and give me glory all the same.
The best thing I ever did
Was convince the world
I don’t exist.