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the preacher ruminates - gwendolyn brooks 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

- gwendolyn brooks lyrics

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