The twelve miles from your sanctuary to civilization is paved with good intentions
and overrun by weeds
The graffiti-scratched stone walls trace back to the past like a holy scroll
with no bodies to find, only empty tombs dug by bloodied knuckles
A metaphor, but no less true for it

Repentance comes easy and absolution, cheap
All transgression is forgiven
with bowed heads and the pious mutterings of the devout
A member in good standing is merely a sinner in good graces
You believe again, because he believes
a miracle in itself, considering the barrenness of your soul
But if Lazarus can rise again like a postmodern superhero
who can doubt eternity?
The years stretching out ahead of us like the illusionary horizon

You deserve each other
like Joseph and Mary deserved a better plot device
Awash in fresh salvation, you spend his cash like a Catholic flush with faith,
adorned in gold rings as gaudy as halos,
and inured to my heathen prayers