They were black of course. <br />Saturday mid-morning; myself <br />just searching to round off <br />that poem on praise, adequately, so as not <br />to let down the poem up to there… <br /> <br />They were black of course. <br />Who else would hope to bring <br />the whi’ fo’ back to God? … <br />even the Muslims have given up on us… <br />they, twentyish, I guess; he in front, <br />she all eager friendly smile behind.. <br /> <br />they shone with goodness; goodness <br />that shone beyond what they, what I, would say; <br />beyond the headline of the magazine <br />he showed me, smiling, asked me what I thought: <br />‘Are these the Last Days? ’… <br /> <br />I said, I’d pass on that; <br />wished them my good wishes: <br />wishes nondenominational, unspecified.. <br />returned to the computer, now to find <br />the poem on praise, a hollow mockery… <br /> <br />and to the mind, there came that potent line: <br />‘Live each day as if thy last’… <br /> <br />They’re probably still knocking, down the streets, <br />gathering reactions mild and wild … <br />I’d just like it if they – all too late - could know that <br />for a moment, goodness met the eye of goodness, <br />yet found no time to praise in present words..<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-bible-bashers-i-just-turned-away/
