God Lives In The Moments You Cant Relive, Nor Take Back Poem by John Tansey

Like a lifer, behind bars,
until his death.

Who finds religion, between
the latrine, the slop
he eats
and the indignity he submits to
on his knees...

not for your prayers, but your apathy

Like the giving of last rights,

when all along, we went on living
never knowing we had
any rights at all

God, you always come too late
and like the devil, robed in black,

You, too, march in the procession,
that gives the tortured body back...