Maybe Gd Is Killing the Church (poetic form)
When you’ve tried and tried
yet nothing’s working,
suspect the Holy One.
When the rug of your life
has been pulled out from under you,
see it flapping in the hand
of the fleeing, cackling Divine Trickster.
As you’re heading out the back door
to sit shiva on the ash heap of your losses,
glance out the window
to see the bonnie Christ in your front yard,
bike dumped on its side where he jumped off it,
eager for you to come out and go off adventuring,
imagining a magical world in which
the two of you are jubilant heroes.
O my People:
Our God is an Easter God.