A Poem For the New Pope
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Leave the Curia, Peter
Demolish the Sanhedrin and the fortified walls,
Order all the impeccable scrolls to be altered
To words of life and love.
Let us go to the garden of the banana plantations,
Uncover by the night any at risk,
For there the master sweats the blood of the poor.
The tunic/vestment is this poor disfigured flesh,
So many cries of children that go unanswered,
Embroidered with the memories of the anonymous dead.
A legion of mercenaries besieges the frontier of the rising dawn
And Caesar blesses them in his arrogance.
In the tidy bowl, Pilate washes himself, legalistic and cowardly.
The people are just scrap, a remnant of hope.
Leave them not alone among the guards and princes.
Itís time to sweat with His agony.
Itís time to drink the chalice of the poor.
Lift the cross, stripped of certainties, and break the bonds
Law and seal Ė of the Roman tomb; bring on the dawn of Easter.
Tell them, tell us all, that the Grotto of Bethlehem, the Beatitudes,
And the judgment of love as food, remain in force and steadfast.
Be on longer troubled! As you love Him love us
Simply as an equal brother. Give us, with your smiles,
Your new tears, the fish of joy, the bread of the word,
Roses of glowing embers, the clarity of the free horizon,
The Sea of Galilee, ecumenically open to the world.
Published Mon 29th Apr 2013 11:56:06