gwendolyn brooks - the preacher ruminates lyrics
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i think it must be lonely to be god
n0body loves a master. no. despite
the bright hosannas, bright dear+lords, and bright
determined reverence of sunday eyes
picture jehovah striding through the hall
of his importance, creatures running out
from servant+corners to acclaim, to shout
appreciation of his merit’s glare
but who walks with him?–dares to take his arm
to slap him on the shoulder, tweak his ear
buy him a coca+cola or a beer
pooh+pooh his politics, call him a fool?
perhaps–who knows?–he tires of looking down
those eyes are never lifted. never straight
perhaps sometimes he tires of being great
in solitude. without a hand to hold
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