Seven Romans Poem by Seth Lloyd Norris Thomas

So hard now,
so hard to hear You
amongst the din of those
familiar little black lies,
quietly whispering to me
over and over,

hard to hear You telling me to quit obsessing
about the afterlife—

You are much more concerned with the beforedeath.

Even now
as I put pen to paper,
I must miserably admit
I am still not prone to listening.

Your wonderfully eloquent murderer-messenger was wrong—
of all of Your creations, I am the worst.