Cheek is like filthy underwear turned inside out.
All the news that is breaking brakes only the heart.
Turmoil is hard to deal with. I can’t digest it.
Jesus Christ wore his cheek well. He was more than fit
For tremendous and horrid abuse from the start.
Moving On is one blessed thing he was about.

It’s as if it’s a chess game played with black and white.
Some will offer their redness to crank up the heat.
It’s no more complicated, this sick human game,
Than the mind of the devil. Indeed they’re the same.
One must count on insuring the other’s defeat.
The bone chilling hate drama exalts this dark night.

I keep news at a distance as I do the cold.
Yet it seeps in through crevasses. I crave it not.
I am not good at chess, and I don’t want to be
A black piece on a game board my eyes cannot see.
Turning cheek is an exercise that helps a lot.
A new facing direction is worth more than gold.

As it was since times ancient, I’ll carry my cross
With the strength that is given me by divine light
That shines down on us all. There’s no need for alarm.
If I think I can play this I’ll do myself harm.
The next move is not mine. I am given new sight
Just to move on to peace. I shall suffer no loss.