my gentle burdens down,

take up his yoke and cudgel

‘gainst these blind

and porous bishoprics,

whose poor brokerage of truth

has destroyed the faith of many.

Tunnel they now metaphorically -

in past as historic fact -

‘neath the temple’s walls,

caves of pagan worship there

they’ve carved from ‘living rock’

- now dead -

for casting spells via media,

and surrender to the dark,

these priests of compromise

have sold the living Christ

for coinage of the realm,

ethics situational embraced,

and left the word behind.

Cudgel them I would,

with love and forgiveness,

lest in hate their mythic delusions

I embrace,

and twist the sacred words for

material advantage mine.

But cudgel still I will,

and face them off,

for truth is truth eternally,

neither be erased

nor forced to submit

to correctness merely cultural,

oh so political -

for this read their

commitment to expediency,

love of status,

and too much willingness to please.

The crowds?

The crowds do pleasure them

with praise and gold abundant.

But I reject their honeyed lies,

their appeals to raw emotions,

and the religious lust

of those who wish

only forms of righteousness,

and not the substance lived.

For the substance is

the living and eternal

Word,

who nailed my sin

upon that blooded wood,

for all the world to see.

In the bread and wine,

this simple liturgy

and word proclaimed

I do him meet,

all glory in humility

cloaked,

his hand outstretched,

scars apparent,

in friendship to this creature.

And I proclaim my personhood,

my intrinsic worth,

as with my own hand

I reach out,

take his,

on  this week’s

resurrection day.

James Gagiikwe © 2008