With No One Inside

Why would a man want to become a preacher? Why would anyone want that job?

Is there some kind of sick delight in hearing other people’s problems? Are you grasping for power, influence? Do you just like to hear yourself talk?

No…

We preach for the boys who lost their dads.
We preach for dads whose boys never came home.
We preach for the wives abused and abandoned.
We preach for the little ones killed by their moms.

We preach for the moms who still ache from that pain.
We preach for the prisoners doing their time.
We preach for the lonely that cry in despair.
We preach for the sick, afraid in their beds.

We preach for old men abandoned in nursing homes:
reeking of formaldehyde.
We preach for old women who lost their minds.
We preach for little girls wounded by words.
We preach for young ladies starving for love.

We preach for the addicts who can’t seem to quit.
We preach for the men who are too proud to admit: they are wrong.
We preach for the guilty who cannot forget: who cannot forget.

We preach for the abusers and the abused.
We preach for the molested and their molesters.
We preach for the raped and all of their rapists.
We preach for the prostitutes and their sick masters.
We preach for cruel bastards, destroyers of life.

We preach for the dead who died in hot fury.
We preach for the dead who never saw light.
We preach for the dead who still rage in their sleep.
We preach for the dead who walk in our streets.
We preach for the dead who deal more of the same.
We preach for the dead and the demons to blame.

We preach a bloody man who endured all Hell.
We preach his bloody hands impaled on a tree.
We preach his pierced side and the water and blood that flowed.
We preach the thorns smashed on his head for the forgiveness of sin.
We preach a love that is stronger than death.
We preach a tomb with no one inside.

With no one inside.