Dear God I’m writing to you ‘cos I’m feeling sort of down,
The cat’s been sick, the kids are crook, the car broke down in town,
I’m late for work, the toast is cold, there’s someone in the loo,
I’m in the red, the milks gone green, I’m understand’bly blue,
I’m not one to complain that much, just thought I’d let you know,
If this goes on much longer, I think my top will blow
I’m going broke, I’m going bald, I think I’m going mad,
The T.V. bust, the footy’s on, and my wife is actually glad!
My socks are odd, I’ve no clean shirts, the iron’s on the blink,
My back is sore, toys on the floor and dog food in the sink,
It’s just not fair, I can’t go on, I don’t know where to turn,
I’d rather you just told me if there’s something here to learn
I’m overworked, I’m overweight, I think I’m underfed,
I’m paid too low, the train’s too slow, I need to go to bed,
The pressures on on every front, the bills aren’t getting paid,
My team can’t win, my kids can’t spell, my coffee isn’t made,
I don’t know why you let me get so far up this damn creek,
You’ve certainly succeeded if you want me feeling weak
There’s HIV and GST and PMT as well,
There’s suicide and homicide and other sorts of hell,
Storms and quakes and famines, cyclones, fire, floods and more,
Drinking drivers, gambling, drugs and crime and hate and war,
I just don’t understand the reason you let things get this way,
Perhaps you just don’t understand the pain of life today!
Sometimes I wish that you could walk a mile or two with me,
Put yourself in my shoes and I think that you would see,
That things here aren’t so lovely, that things often don’t go well,
That life here’s less like heaven, this life is more like hell,
I guess if you could be here, if you lived a while as man,
You could feel the things I feel, and maybe understand
Oh God, how blind and stupid I have been, forgive me please,
My memory’s short, Gethsemene, your son down on his knees,
If you could take this from me, take this cup of blood and tears,
Take the judgement and the whipping, take the ridicule and jeers,
Take the thirty coins of silver, take the rooster crowing too,
Take the crown of thorns and nails, Oh God what must I do,
Take the taunts and grief and darkness, take the dice and sponge of wine,
But Father now as always, let Your will be done, not mine
...............................................................
Dean Herring. ©2001
Copyright Dean Herring, all rights reserved. This poem may be performed
publicly without royalty provided no entrance fee is charged. In return,
the author would appreciate being notified of any performance. He may be
contacted at deansim1@optusnet.com.au