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TITLE: Pharisees? By vicki adams 06/14/06 |
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This monotone soliloquy
A gross parody of a people born to fight.
Embittered by towering idols which
Stare in stony silence back
At our worship.
Scarred not
With marks of mission but
The twist of inner conflicts
Fighting our own battles as
Authenticity seeps away.
Potential screaming still
From ancient words
‘The Worst’ will wait and waste away
Alone
While we’re debating dogma, Locked away
Forgetting there’s a world outside these walls.
Where is the zeal paraded once
In unfurled banners held on high?
How did we
Water down
Our cause
To safely sit in citadels?
Unnoticing we’ve crafted high
Asherah poles of private pride,
Until today we’re walking blind
Amidst a world of tortured need.
And what future
For this band of diluted revolutionaries-
Who dream in the diminutive?
Are we all out to couch ourselves
In safety nets of self and sin?
Veiled within a status quo
That offers all we think we
Need
We fail to notice our starvation
And miss His open arms of grace.
We believe-
We are so safe and well
Comfortable, enmeshed within the
Spoils of sin.
Do we sit as Pharisees?
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