Dear Lord and Father
of mankind and also of me too,
before my humble confessions
I’ve a mind to take issue with you:
about our blocked up sinuses and aching ill formed backs, evolution’s proof your original plan lacked
detail
you will neither admit or, god forbid, redress –
this or confess that your invention of the fallen angels, satan and the rest, allowing paradise to become the dreadful mess which all our climate activists simply can’t arrest – is of your behest
and about the worst of all – the fatal inate flaw – the divisive tendencies you gave to all humankind – poorly named and even worse, atrociously designed, might well have been avoided, had you spent a little longer on the prototype.
God, I am relying on you – I’m buying all the hype – a final desperate plea – I beg you for forgiveness for all I’ve failed, it’s true – and if, as if, there really is a god,
then now I call on you,
hoping you might find a way
to offer some redemption
and forgive yourself, some day
offering salvation
for the mess you made.
Cherry Coombe 