God Is Well Poem by Germina Melius

People say there is no God, bury Old Religion.
Our Father on his throne laughs at man's petit wisdom.
He stamps his foot, the serpent trembles hidden among the trees.
The wind stands at attention under a Deity Spell.
The trees look up as stagnant peaks,
oh you should have seen Rainbow's jubilant face,
My Father is walking in.

He looks around at hypocrites; a frown paints the old man's face.
An angry spirit is haunting My Father's broken heart.
Voices of Saints disturbs him, Eulogy has begun.
"Old harm ….fool, happy he is dead. Do not call your child Religion, but Creature instead."
You were crucified by words on that ancient cross,
never hindered your mission in the end of time,
"only one religion by the Great Divine."

The Creature left souls wounded, brittle minds confused,
bore Old Atheism, racism and wars to banish the Old You.

Listen to a whisper, my brother died today.
Our Father left to see a son with great potential, his soul in misery.

Returning to the funeral, another confirmed death,
Eulogy is like a parchment on the wooden floor.

I heard the proclamation,
"Bury Old Religion with his eulogy, thirty feet deep, bashed with stones, pour in concrete mix! "
Guilt penetrates my conscience and my swollen heart,
"The devil is a saint, a regular at church,
over ten years backslidden, have mercy on my soul."
My Father quietly listening from his silent world,
"Daughter all is forgiven, spend no dollar on a casket.
You Shall Not Bury Me,
for I am in good health to judge humanity."

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