Day dreams of the rural Midwest, dreams of nowhere; broken sidewalks and high school queenies.
Faded cigarette packages along the side of the road; thrown away piles in the woods.
Stale cigarette smoke in the church parking lot.
Wood panel Chevy Astros and restaurants where everyone knows yr name.
Self martyrdom in the bar bathroom; muggy nights w/ the crickets in yr ears.
Used cans of chew w/ beads on the car seats; the orange florescent light in the apartment hallway fading in a midwestern fire.
Losers finishing last on a bet that left them behind.
A southern rapture; the faded painted mural behind the withered pulpit.
Rivers of grace forever flowing in barren lands; the concrete itself cries out in anguish.
A sabbath eternal, creation renewal; all quiet in the land of dust.
''For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.
And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body''
- Romans 8:22-23
No comments:
Post a Comment