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Altar of Blood Sacrifice Lives
By Rudolph Lewis
We game Christ in a
steel helmet of thorns
on the field of war
that fortune paves—
the blood of the altar
flows steadily
down through the ages,
to now.
A Palestinian child
throws the freeing rock
of Intifada into
Goliath’s eye of genocide.
Flying gunships with
their bursts of light
hammer a body to
contested ground.
A Haitian evangelist
at the pulpit
is dragged away at
gunpoint by angels
in black—the eternal
Tonton Macoute.
A kerosene lamp
flickers in silence.
Bodies fall from twin
towers in the clouds
stripped naked on the
rim of their grave.
Martyrs forgotten
remark on chalked truth
inside the dustbin of
yesterday news.
A mauled black face in
delta soil once
a playful
smile—picnickers whistle
when the neck snaps.
Holidays hang from
poplar trees.
Parasites burrow in
the bloody flesh.
Hearts are cold on the
road to Emmaus.
Smart guns are
stroked—God is Great!
Lamb and goat hand in
hand to slaughter
but Satan must not see us weep.
posted
9 April 2004 |