Catechism Poem by Paul Kesler

There is the question of the garden, the snake,

the question of gold
and the sundial's scything shadow;

the question of water
that would not change to wine;

the question of the witch,
the hammer and the stake;

the question of sermons,
the burning of the sea;

the question of arrows
and the rows of wheat unharvested,

the songs of marching columns,
of bullets in the sun;

the question of thine enemies
who lived to wither endlessly;

the question of homages,
of ashes in the urn;

the question of love
as the cold planet perished.