The Golden Mouthed, he was the one
Singing about the Father, Spirit, & Son
Intoning Triune creeds
Beseeching deliverance from affliction, wrath and need.
Old words, on Sunday’s rote droned
Under gold onioned domes
Before workaday concerns, alone
Dominate ordinary time at home.
By Monday, incense drifted away
Tabletop concerns reassert sway.
What’s owed me and you?
Glad tidings left in the pew.
Tuesday, homeless man on the street
What then, when our eyes meet?
Give him spare change,
Or leave from kindness estranged?
Wednesday, home burned in fire
Family lost possessions entire.
Give them our spare clothes
Or tell them someplace else go?
Thursday, mother and hungry baby
Can’t eat good willed maybes.
Do we let out hearts be swayed
Or blithely walk away?
Friday, friend alone, hospital bound
Asking us to come around.
Forgo an hour of our time glorified
Or excuse ourselves with polite lies?
Saturday, disaster blows
Injuring people we don’t know.
The wounded many, come in a flood
But we don’t even part with a drop of blood.
Sunday comes round again
After ignoring the week’s pain
Our hearts paying no heed
To other’s affliction, wrath, and need.
Why bother with golden litanies
And prayers for love’s certainties
When our hearts and minds in schism
And souls imprisoned?
The Great Author knows all
Even the slightest sparrow’s fall,
So, forget our incanted rhymes
And false promises’ shine.
Thought and prayers, useless
For us hardened and ruthless.
An infernal road we tread
For faith without works is dead.
Wisdom! Pay Attention!
Hell’s path’s paved with good intentions,
Leading to gnashing of teeth
When refusing help to those we meet.
For the Day will surely come
When from Heaven’s Hound we will run
Not seeing in our sin
That failing to do for others, we failed Him.
Men must be like angels
Not empty, clanging cymbals.
For together ourselves, you see
Delivereth each other from affliction, wrath, & need.
