It's just not that simple, Jack,
you can't pop in and out of large
furniture and expect to be transformed.
You know the grubby hub of life
(though perhaps I'm mixing you up
with Wystan) and you've known grief,
God knows, but really your life is too contained,
sequestered, for your insights to mean much
to me now. Caught as I am in this city,
rubbing hips and elbows with a variety
of my fellow humans, hustling in the bustle
grist ground in this public transport mill
the rapture surely will be televised
or at least YouTubed. Stand clear of the closing
doors, we won't be spirited away to Heaven
on holiday. Hoping that Hell has all the fire
of a defunct pizza oven. You got right
that any good intentions go to light,
any bad to dark. The problem of pain
is the fear of it, merely wise, merely human,
merely seeking the everlasting truth.
Amy Lemmon
April 11, 2016
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