So Help Me God: or, You’re Welcome, Mr. Citizen: Part 7
Now I’ve got to get a job and
Find a place to stay for the night.
Parents are dead and the farm’s sold,
Maybe you’d like to open your home?
No? I didn’t really think so.
I guess you missed that “love thy enemy”
Sermon last Sunday. But why?
There was a protest you say? Bless you son.
Maybe one day I’ll hear you cry:
“Thank you, sir.” But I’m a patient man,
I’ll wash my uniform while I wait.
And I’ll clean the blood off my hands.
A couple generations, if it takes,
But I could use the time to reflect
And pray for forgiveness
To reconcile my relationship with Him
And look for the love amidst the killing fields
Where the poppies grow in long rows
And mines and bodies lie in wait.
Are you there, Lord? Are you using me
To bring your kingdom to earth
Or have I been unyoked by you
Only to be bridled by mortal masters?
I’m trying to do your work and
I’m bending my ears to listen for your call,
But with the gunfire still ringing
And mortars still exploding all around me,
It’s a bit difficult to hear you.