Harold Macdonald's Muse


No Lack of Vision


Harold Macdonald

Who am I to know the holy God?

My lips should burn with incandescent coals

with molten rage for raped and ravaged souls.

I, too, am shaken, feel the stinging rod


Surrounded by the Church’s faithful witness

to older visions which ignited and transformed

‘though the wind of God is faint where once it stormed

we preach the gospel, pray, and sins confess.


Yet one can feel the scorch of anger, art of rage

allow oneself to be possessed entire

and hold the brightest light, the hottest fire

seek to open prisons, to unlock the cage


Horrors multiply upon our screens

As evil as humanity or God have ever seen.