Sometimes sounds soar up from earth through space
to the edge of Heaven that God has water-walled.
This morning’s listeners heard an old disgrace:
‘Kill a commie for Christ!’ fanatics bawled,
and Christ, for all His years, was still, appalled.
‘I preached and lived and died for peace and love
but people still graft talons on my dove.’

Shapes shifted in the gardens where He walked.
While some gave witness, others shied away,
too overcome by how raw evil stalked
this Christ who’d died for everyone one day
and everyday thereafter; saw him sway,
beseech some One, get answers that they lacked
the grace to hear yet. Watched His straightened back.

When He walked on, they started a debate.
For some this was Valhalla. One of them
suggested lightning should disintegrate
the criminals whose creeds brought pain to Him.
A painful silence. Finally the dim
as well as all the brighter understood
why He must suffer fools and knaves for good.