The elderly go to church.
They raise their song,
behold the Lamb of God which taketh away
the sin of the world;
taketh away the shabbiness,
with exact mortal knowledge.
The devout way is a resilience.
And also regal. It mellows, renders
human drama with a meaning.
My heavy heart when austere,
it calls out to God too
seeking exact answers.
He answers mysteriously,
resides in a will as if my own,
in a design wholly accidental.
That chance is God, I already said.
By chance were you intended to cross
my soul, burst my bubble?
Day 14. It’s Good Friday. A soulful day. So write a soulful poem will ya? I asked for one good thing, and it happened. So do you pray? Do you speak to God? It’s like asking with an inner voice, in an inner space. It’s private. Maybe if you keep listening to your soul? Then God will answer? And He will provide? Whatever it is He moves in mysterious ways. Anyway all I’m saying is that somehow one day it will rain on you that your life has meaning? Something you feel in your soul, in your old bones? Robert Brewer wants us to pick a popular saying and run with it in some way. You know, something like “burst your bubble” or “rain on your parade”, or “cry wolf”. Anything. But remember to write soulfully.