Pop-pop's Funeral

Pop-pop’s Funeral

god moves thru

It’s rah, it’s right, it’s all ok, all good because young lamb
god moves thru all things. yah, yah, don’ scare, do your thing
boy, grown man: god moves thru all things. i clutch breath
tight, breast feels shaky right here thum-thum-thum
me breathe, you breathe, we breathe til no more breathe
push out life raise hands voices at your death

they say god moves thru all things; even your death
and now you’ve been offered down, a rack of lamb
for the earth to eat. mama cries wondering if you can breathe
in your coffin, but i know coz, all is rah, all is good, not a thing
we can do: god moved thru; ‘flew you away on wings’ thum-thum-thum
they say ‘we’ll see you again’; ha, rah i don’t hold my breath

a’round me people dey pray and god moves thru they breath
not me tho; i remain calm outside inside i sweat death
and in-between the choir songs ‘ear my heart stammer thum-thum-thum
my own mama s’pects that biblically i am on the lamb
god moves thru me and don’ stick; there is nothing, not a thing
you can do to unmake me feels; i am godles’ and still breathe

what would you have me believe? tha god said to coz “no breathe
anymore; your work here is done so i crushed your life in a breath
and give you dis white robe, dese wings, leave this earthly thing
of a car and a life and a wife–you stronger now n’ i give you death
like i give you life?” nah, nah, it’s nah right, no good–i guess god’s lamb
always ‘turn to the flock when he hear the shepherd go thum-thum-thum

with his stick; god moves thru the flock humming gospel thum-thum-thum
the whole thing no good, all bad, no rah, not right i need to breathe
let my people go have their grief the same way they eat their lamb:
medium-rare; half-way in faith and hardly considerin’ fact in the same breath
he’s dead. he is dead-dead. crushed in a car and now his death
means we bow and believe he’s in a better place without a thing

to worry about now. he’s gone. gone. dead-gone. and here’s the thing:
tap on your Bible, drum your fingers on your knee thum-thum-thum
i hear thum-thum-thum too; grandfather clocks clicking my death
god moves thru time and, if there, doesn’t care if you breathe
if he’s even there. and is he? everyday we kill a lamb.

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