A poem in a series exploring different Atonement Theories.
Amidst the fog
beneath the Olive trees,
bending over dirt
and on his knees, his lips still stained
with Pesach wine,
the Son stooped pleading God’s design.
Tag: poetry
Christus Victor
A poem in a series exploring different Atonement Theories.
Friday night and we call it Good,
the Son whose arms pitch high to wield
the cornus tree, the arbor pole, the scepter-cross.
Self-Portrait
I spend a lot of time in doctor’s offices,
classrooms,
coffee shops, sometimes,
where the brew smells so strongly I can almost taste it, bitter
on the roof of my mouth.
That Men Have Power
Yes, the wickedness of man was great in the earth,
so God made their sons as many as the dust of the earth,
the dirt of the earth,
a covenant in their flesh established
between ‘me and you’ –
by which God meant, between ‘He and he,’
every male among them –
this was only the beginning of what they would do.
Delight
For Sigmund, with Scorn
Freud loved to write of caves and hidden bays,
hollow drops and channels for green
and spiky dreams, tucked mean
inside the brains of men he never knew.
Freud loved to write of mind-
sick men, their mind-
sick needs, said he,
their lurch and lust to possess and press,
and very best to take some female flesh,
to lie within the one that warmed and
knit and brought them writhing into life.
Nativity
In damp
and low-lit
basement, blessed Mary
lies with soiled veil,
straw like
Blessed One: A Poem in Two Parts
“When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week,
he appeared first to Mary Magdalene,
out of whom he had cast seven demons.”
– Mark 16:9
I.
A risen Lord
for a risen hope:
may we find you weeping again,
blessed one,
your sisters are calling you.
To Marvelous Light 