No Lack of Vision
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.