Sunday, 8 July 2012


Each day your  chosen  one smiles empty smiles and gives
Empty  promises, and  you accuse me of  being a doubting
Thomas? I would  fain be kindred to Thomas till I be proved
Mistaken, that  those  promises  are otherwise,  not hollow!

Where, O  Lord, do I   turn to, when  thy chosen  one shows
Teeth reddened  by   sheep’s blood  as he sits on his throne,
Surrounded by acolytes who belt out platitudes as they wait
To  stab  unawares?  And you call  me a doubting Thomas?

But  days turn to  months and  months into  years and still I
Try  to find solace  in empty  promises, while  wolves gather
To  devour  innocent  sheep,  scaring  away the  shepherd!
In  his  place sits one  on a throne dressed in sheep’s  skin!

O, Lord! Where is thy  justice  that  you should strike down,
Those in sheep-skin and  bring back the kindly shepherd to
Tend  his flock with   love  and  kindness?  But, days turn to
Endless  nights, of empty promises and  hollow assurances!

How so poor  spiritually  is one who has nothing to give but
Empty  promises and hollow smiles, and you would call me a
  Doubting Thomas?  For should I  be not, while  your chosen
One  sits  in  sheep’s  skin   belting   out  hollow platitudes ?

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