Election Burnout

“Love your neighbor” becomes a new proposition

when all your neighbors hate one another;

to serve a God who loves Donald and Ben,

Hillary, Bernie, and Carly and Ted,

Who died for each polled member of the populace

and loves Marco as much as Joe,

Who remembers the names of all the candidates

and every thought they ever had

and every hair that was ever theirs–

this is no simple proposition.

To hear the still small voice of Truth above all the talking heads

and empty words and vitriol

and to remember that you too are in need of grace

and that to pray for our country

we must first love it (and here we must remember

the proper order of loves: for one can love Caesar

without burning incense) in spite of all the NOISE

that surrounds every thought we may have

about anything that supposedly matters

(Did your hear the one about Trump?

Did you hear the one about Clinton?

Did you hear the one about _____?

It is unAmerican to do everything;

It is unAmerican to do nothing)

sometimes I wonder if it is worth it

if there is any point in caring:

because after all, I am one small person

in a vast arena of shouting sports fans:

and I might be wearing the wrong color.

I don’t know.

But if I take my primary command still to be:

love your neighbor

then perhaps it is a form of love to listen

and to care with those who care.

(Still, I do not know who is right

and if anyone demands that I have an opinion

they can go stuff their head in a poll booth.)


With sincerest apologies to anyone who was hoping for something more thoughtful.

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