(I’m having one of my ‘stretched’ times at the moment, and writing a fresh and engaging blog post seems like a bridge too far. The good news is that’s been a while since I inflicted one of my experiments in poetry on you, so here’s one that I’ve had sitting around for just a moment like this. I’m not going to apologise…)
Abraham,
Pushing Him in the chest,
Tries
To hold His breath.
King Canute of the Covenant.
Could there be tears
There
On His face? Not just wrath,
As it burns?
Shame on Him?
No, shame on us. For He
Tries
Integrity.
“Who will stand in the breach for them?”
He asks of us.
There
We sit in the rubble
And throw stones.
