For Colin Mccahon [nz Painter: 1919 -1987] - Poem by Keith Johnson
Thy Divine Majesty
By thought, word and deed
And the greatest of these is word.
Epaminondas is black
Oyzmandias lies least
And Parsimonious the priest.
I will spend forty days and forty nights
In the desert, stubbing my toes on rocks
And the lamb will lie down with the lion
And I will rail against the fig
And return to cry out in the market place.
Old men dream dreams and wake without rest
There is no health in them
And I will scrunch my black and dirty words
Against the canvas edge on the dark hills.
Take no thought for the morrow
In the beginning was the word
And that day such deeds were done.
But thou oh God whose property
Is always to have mercy
Not weighing our merits
But pardoning our offences.
If we have no words
We have no God
Let me find the words.
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