What men are holy, all on their own,
pure and spotless profess to be,
unaware of tares that they have sown,
grown plainly, where others may see?
I hear the Name in my spirit.
Actions, reactions, flow from the heart
effluvium born from one's sin,
brackish or brine, the whole, not in part,
spewed from impurity within.
Hope's effusion catches my breath.
Who'd plead us not guilty at judgment,
who'll dare speak on our behalf;
without a sentence adjustment,
won't Justice, pure, have the last laugh,
a herald till heaven can hear it?
I hear the Name in my spirit,
Hope's effusion catches my breath,
a herald till heaven can hear it,
"Redeemed, arise ye sons of Seth,
The Lamb proclaims life after death!"
--Fr. Veni di Morte
copyright 1999, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved
This poem appeared in Wellspring: A Journal of Christian Poetry, Oct. 1999.