Wounded By Life

Does it resonate, rain falls the hardest when we're on parade? Do we value Life's handouts or stranger who throws us a rope That we have to hold onto, assist in our rescue, don't own When we gain a sure footing. Do odds stacked against us (subdued) Just suggest we were lucky? Do praises we proffer lift up Our Samaritan's shining example, and call us to know We show faith by the mercy we offer to those in our path When they're not of our tribe, race, or caste? Do we pass by or stop? Is security found more in barns we fill up to the top Or the grace that we give? Is humility's profit God's wrath Or the grace we would find? Do you think that God's Love's just a snow Job, Life's closer to Hell, Life's best gift is your death? Still our cup Is to drink it! It matters what faith that you think you pursue When your God's based on fear? Is this 'God,' or do you set the tone? Is a 'God' I invent or a 'shared God' more cursed? Am I dope To think mercy, humility shine when one's God's not charade? Long Tooth February 29th in 2020 Poet's Notes: (1) Luke 10:25-37 The parable of the good Samaritan.