Prayer for the City

Where are you going?
What is so pressing?
What makes you so driven to leave your life
and pursue another given?

Long coats black and grand
you strut the streets big outside
void within.

Happy makes me sad,
makes me weep inside because
happy only makes us monkeys.
Don't you see?
Don't you see
the empty creeds we recite
with each foot step,
mouse drag,
key tap;
Every scratch of ink on paper
and clink of coffee on its lonely saucer.

The creeds of darwin and worthless chemical scum,
that make sweatshops worthy of us,
and how it's done.

Can grass find life and vitality
under a marble slab?
Can it grow? Yet that is the very thing we try to do —
to redeem the ground below,
and destroy anything that seeks
to silence its waning bellow.

Oh Creator, how long?
Oh Creator, have mercy.
Have mercy
on us, the oppressors;
the victims of oppression.

May the BIG ISSUES of life not be the Beemers
on street side pumping clouds of strife
into these heated conversations on
triflings and bling-blings and
one-night flings.

God have mercy,
Creator lend an ear.
Hold out your hand,
Open your eyes,
and help us


out here.