After the Flood

this rusty relic

when it has finally good and washed away

on the waves of its children leaving

its last hope of resurrection spent on

an overhead projector and a damned outside consultant

with a damned good vision plan …

we will remember the big churchy words

wrapped around the marching orders.

we will remember the days when we loved being right

more than we loved loving.

this crumbling ark of a thing

that we’ve half-worshipped and over-mortgaged

finally goes down.

there is no hating God for this one.

no blaming that sad divine for the

wreck of our own creation.

maybe it was bound to end this way.

after the fire, the storm, the wandering.

after the flood,

the astounding rainbow of a promise

a love so vast and colorful that

we could never possibly keep up our end of the bargain.