THE PULPIT LIED

THE PULPIT LIED

last night at the cathedral
the tongue on the pulpit preached:
“when men’s lips vent anger on you,
speak with tender voices, brethren,
and woe betide you if the sun set on your rage,
soft words spoken darken sparkles of swords”

last night,
i went to sleep and woke up, searching
for the one who stands on sunday’s pulpit,
if his anger is soften under the oceans
of love that shine in his eyes in church
for I did him wrong

sons of god have great words
beyond my midget mind
or are our verses and chapters distinct?
i woke up and found his fury,
lying upon the sands of the Sahara desert
with the sun still smiling on it at twilight
.
(C), innocence silas

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