Prophecies, Promises & Pranks
The weak shall inherit the earth. Or is it the meek? The turn-the-other-cheek crowd anyway. Where are they now? What went wrong?
Don’t go trusting prophecies. They’re riddled with false hope no matter who lobs them out there, like grenades, like stillborn children.
Prophecies, promises and pranks, kissing cousins on the porch swing at midnight, whispering to each other while we toss and turn in our troubled sleep and dream a better tomorrow.
We’re so easily distracted – a strange rattle in the cupboard, a new ad on TV, a waiting list for who knows what. Bring a book along, it will all come clear once you’re next in line.
False hope is better than no hope, a red herring of desperation. Work on your smile while you’re waiting for the ax to fall, tell your children how it used to be, tell them it’s not too late for them, God will take up the slack. Send them off to school with a teacher’s note, then pour one more cup of coffee before you back out of the driveway.
