Amen
The white flag waves, after we come to the end
of what we don’t know what to say—amen.
We have said our piece, and our trouble too,
and You know better than we, what we meant to say.
“So be it.”—So be what? So be all that I’ve asked or said?
If that is the case, then I am the master and You the genie.
A heresy—nothing could be further from the truth.
You take no commands, and in no ways are You bound.
Amen. It is not the exclamation at the end of an imperative,
instead it is the little hand that reaches up
to take hold before crossing the road.
Michael McNerlin Jr. is an emerging poet from the Jersey Shore. His work is rooted in the numinous and explores how profound theological truths manifest themselves in unexpected ways. When he is not musing on how best to articulate the Summum Bonum, he is the grateful pastor of a small church in Wanamassa, New Jersey. He currently spends his nights holed up in his study working toward his first poetry collection.
Amethyst Review 