Amid Ruin, There Is Reparation Poem by M. A Heathcote

Amid ruin, there is life.
God, he must work at the corner catalogue shop.
The one before 'Afterlife', next to 'Hope & Despair'
With the Liberty Bell ringing,
A counter-clockwise ringing in both ears
God, he must be hoping our overdrafts clear.

Amid ruin, there is salvation.
God, he must work at a downtown liquor store.
One where we can't purchase any more insolvency
Before closing times, serrated edges
It passes us by about 70% off a pair of sunglasses.

Amid ruin, there is forgiveness.
God, he must work in the local fashion warehouse.
Or even a quiet Nero's café, where street urchins,
With ruddy blue eyes, they cry and blow their noses
On their second-hand, hand-me-down clothes.

Amid ruin, there is reparation.
God, he must work as a bookie on lost causes.
Maybe he's working for free at the local charity.
Because I know I can see he's been working on me.
For what has felt to me like an eternity