I would brave your rain of brimstone,
Impuning my motives as those of
The vindication-seeker,
I would brave it all,
To sit at your feet,
To lean my head into your lap.

But, no.
A thousand miles away
I sit with my back to you,
Leaning my head
On a stone cold wall.

Where are you going
O solitary marcher?
On what moral criterion
Do you base your distain?

What can I say that you would consider?
What rejoinder can one add
To someone who "sees through"
What they've never seen?

When the grapes are harvested
And you wake up to find yourself
In unmitigated torment,
Your past, a reeking waste,
Your future, a bottomless pit,
Will you demand an apology?

The gate is very small
And the way is very narrow
That leads to eternal life.
I would go with you, Dad,
To show you the way.

But we would resistless go
Through the Slough of Despond.
And your pride would never
Make it through the gate intact.