Tuesday, the First Week of Lent

Tuesday, the First Week of Lent

No one seems to know what it means to believe
anymore
than what it means to breathe
lungs bursting as the sea comes crashing down
chariots and horses
anymore
than what it means to laugh
just because God is the jokester
and everyone knows the punchlines
anymore
than what it means to cry
weeping over a city that is slowly destroying itself
drinking Molotov cocktails
bloody Marys and Davids
three year-olds
anymore than what it means to run for one’s life
or the morning newspaper
checking the want-ads to see who has been found
and reading “Dear Abby” to see how many more have been lost
(On a good day it finds a balance
on a bad God overdraws his account
and the headlines scream: God goes bankrupt!)

And no one knows
what it means not to believe
not to breathe and laugh and cry and run
as though
every breath were the first
every smile shattered the gloom
every tear washed the vision clean
every stride brought one closer
to the beginning of the race.