I wrote this
when my father caught cancer.
He was fighting for his life
against his own body
and I felt so helpless
and had to find some way
to take control of the chain of events
and I couldn’t will him back to full strength
so I put pen to paper
or maybe finger print to keyboard,
whatever.
Anyhow, I did this:

God, if you’re listening,
don’t do this.
You can pick amongst a billion other sacrifices.
Don’t take my dad.
What kind of fucked up shit
would that be?
I’m not done growing up;
how will your divine plan
ever reach culmination
if you’re just slaughtering all the people
prostrate before you?
It would be a PR disaster!

Tell you what, let’s make a deal:
You do this little thing for me
and whenever you want
if there may be some favor
you may need of me,
just ask.
I’ll be there for you.
In the meantime, I’ll be sure
to sing all hosannahs
to all the faithful
wherever I meet them.
What do you say,
deal?

The piece wasn’t very good.
It didn’t work,
after all.