vainly they sought and could not find
so called, the sure fire myth for our times
no one held it under lock and key
the least of all things was it mystery
not even encoded
Christ is too easy perhaps they complained
inside themselves, in a drizzling rain
wanting to look so cool and put together
doubting everything but dystopian weather
wary so wary and leary to bear the brand
though Christ with his crown of thorns
was mocked on every hand
to wear the brand
of idiocy on their brows and so
to offend the current high command
well I think so but anyhow
how miserable for God
to have sent his Son
in such pledged love for everyone
for generations
and still
to be so undone
by those who just have a basic problem
with peer pressure.
mary angela douglas 18 september 2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem