Poetic Expressions: Hustlers, Hymnals and Hallelujahs

Photo credit: Sam Seizert 

By: Yvette R. Blair. copyright 2018

From my file of random musings as a writer and theologian

Deep in the heart of Texas
abandoned church buildings
have found their final resting place
along the bluebonnet peppered highways

where hustlers kneel on hymnals
shooting dice, praying and
blowing into cupped fists,
speaking in tongues, looking for
mercy that rolled dice, amid dicey
temptations will yield an offering

Water towers stand in the
background, washing away
the sins of holy rollers
cursing the ground of Freestone
county and Limestone county
and worship bulletins
are score cards, stained with
Communion juice and smudged
pieces of broken bread
Jesus’ body broken for the
remission of sins, for
holy rollers who scream
snake eyes

In the shadows of premium outlets
that sit low in the valley of
Hill Country, where Emmaus walks
led by bone-weary spiritual guides
have no where else to lead congregants

And now here, at mile marker 187
the air is heavy with Hennessey in a
once flourishing parking lot of
Baptist churches where makeshift
pulpits lean against trees and
The rustling of Lincolns and Jacksons
and Franklins and crumpled Washingtons,
bearing the imprint of in God we trust
for all debts owed, this legal tender
that passes through the hands of untrustworthy
hustlers whose stanzas of amazing grace
merge into the traffic along Interstate 45


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