You were presented in the beginning
As pristine, unblemished, pure one
We were instructed so by your disciples
And yet we missed the view of your cunning
Your cruelty and shackles
Which you placed upon my darling
Dear ones. Their only desire was a bosom
And a home. We missed your hackles
that revealed your true nature
Your hunger for blood and sacrifice
That was unjustified in the noonday sun
When these poor ones searched for water
This barren desert was our promised
recompense for sullen sullage
The catch was that our parents
Were the promise makers and we only wished
For some cold water to bathe our feet
Is that too much to ask from the slavemaster?
The hoarder of the life-giving water?
If only we had strayed from the heat
That radiated from your shining gold
And silver towers. Your mockery of God’s beauty
And promise of heaven. We have no hope
Of heaven without you, we were told
Beggars’ tears had no effect on you
Or your petty disciples. When suffering
And poverty are destined to sanctify
Why shouldn’t we revel in the gloom
The pain and the misery was a blessing
A grace and a blessing, you chanted at our funerals
Where is the hope that we seek in life?
There is none without passing
Through fire and water and blood
Sacramented in horror and honor
Glory blazing through us
While we drudged up more mire and mud
To the few who fought against these bonds
You dealt out fury and damnation
Death by excommunication they
Screeched and hissed while the dawn
Hastened to shatter their bloody dreams
The power of the press has freed us
But no
We are still alone the children keened
They shield our breathless hope
Behind fences of penance
To keep the world out and the church
Crying for our pope
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