under the alleluias
I once heard a comedian
say the only way to get to
the good jokes was to push
past the easy ones: go ahead
and say all the double entendres,
the terrible puns, and the sex --
the obvious stuff -- and then . . .
only then -- can you write
great comedy.
Perhaps I’m stretching
the analogy, but couldn’t we
say the same thing about faith:
laying aside the alleluias for Lent
is like writing great comedy
for praise can quickly turn to
platitude: God is good all the time
all the time God is good
God is good . . .
Yes, the words are true --
yet, what if we let them lie
like dormant roots under dead
leaves, what if we left them
alone for these days of darkness
and let our sorrow, our grief,
our questions, even our hopes
have the last word to see
what lies beyond what seems
to be most true
and listened to the birds
who are not singing, talked
to those no longer here,
wait for things that don’t come,
remember Love runs stronger
than sunshine, that hope is
not happiness, and prepare
ourselves for the belly laugh
of the resurrection.
Peace,
Milton
