There Are Times

There are times I wish:
To be lost in my theology.
Guilt, grace and gratitude.
And all the rest, for a better attitude.

But I can't.
Every word of theology I read.
Sends me into the moment.
Into the crimes of the times.

Crimes against earth, wind and fire.
Crimes against the children.
Crimes against the people.
Crimes against the nation.

How can I lose myself in the rhetoric of faith?
When insanity swirls like a dust devil?
When prophets cry out?
And Jesus is lead into Pilate's chambers?

I can read some poetry; that'll help.
But, dadgumit all, every word therein zings.
Rings with poignancy and pain.
Dark nights and chilly winds.

Unrequited love.
Longing for the lost.
Wondering what it means.
Words trapped in heavy frost.

Read the Bible.
But it doesn't get any better.
From Adam's sin to the bloody cross.
Humanity bound and bitter.

I'd like to lose myself.
Close my ears to the noise.
Close my eyes to the sorrow.
Close my mouth and be silent.

But I can't.
I'm a human being.
I can't ignore.
The horror.