Every Broken Thing

American Jesus
The Poetry Of Lance McKnight
  
American Jesus

                               
         Tonight there is no tree
         to cast a shadow, no star
         to light the path. And like before,
         you no longer have room for him, as he walks
         off into the dark - and you are sleeping.

         We left him behind at the wake and now
         falter one more dawn. This tribulation
         in a land that has never had place
         for a king. And one we fought

         to keep away, as we complete another
         revolution. And now we wait.
         Sleeping. On the other side of night.