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Scraggy-soul street preacher, frocked in great black robe rends the air, bullhorn shaking:“Jesus saves!” No one hears.

In dawn light, mega trucks designed for mega trash of high-rises devour dumpsters, spray painted with “Jesus Saves!” No one sees.

Watermelon-breasted crone heaves “Jesus Saves!” beneath T-shirt, faded by multiple washings, its message bereft of soul-juice. No one tastes.

Bumper-sticker missiles, “Jesus Saves!” Americanized in red-white-blue, careen Interstates. Distances carefully maintained. No one touches.

“Jesus Saves!” emblazoned upon our anemic culture: its hollow posturing, a morass of slow starvation. Yet from its sludge oozes an inchoate whimper.  Could it be, “Jesus Saves?”

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Free-fall into specter-world stuns the senses.

Impenetrable darkness obliterates the terrain.

Stench of rubbish steams the eyes.

Tasteless gloom salts the pores of life.

Dissonance clamors for direction.

Bruising of predicable routines sours the tongue.

 

Splintered glass crazes the heart-wound.

 

We enter the madness, its deafening silence enjoining participation.

We wait.

We begin to breathe.

 

Time passes.

Tears seep through ironclad fortresses.

 

More time passes.

We surrender.

 

New vision orients us to shades of gray around us.

Caustic demands diminish their stranglehold.

Strange sweetness awakens the heart, its wound a stitched ridge.

A moist path emerges beneath us.

We stand, our first steps, wobbly.

Behind us is what was.

Ahead, fresh adventure into the unknown, companioned by the Unseen.

 

 

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