Christian Atheist Poem by Jacob Coleman

Lord, forgive me if I have preferred the thing
Thought to the thing thinking (difference
Between dead books and voices that can sing,
Mock, or just whisper love, the soul’s cadence) .

We murmur ‘god’ uncertain that we pray.
Lord, who will listen to our broken cries?
We say ‘amen’ thinking you cannot stay.
The child in every man and woman dies,

Leaving such a great gap in glass-eyed man
And woman, believing as we grow old
That we’re bigger-stronger now, but Life can,

Age can, get confused, like gold (like fool’s gold) .
Stones that dally in the mire, surely they sink?
Was it folly then made me kneel here and think?