"Woe to you who are rich,
for you are receiving your comfort in full now."
We who count our abundance as blessing
and find ourselves fettered to our amusements.
How few, in the half-light of provision
can see past the gleam
of the next, the better, the best
into the hollow of our pride.
How few can fathom
the freedom in scarcity;
the feasting in one's daily bread.
"Woe to you who are well-fed now,
for you shall be hungry."
Woe indeed to the satisfied.
Woe to those whose bellies groan
with the burden of banqueting;
filled to the brim with sumptuous chaff.
Oh, that we would gather
with needful hands
the manna whose humility sustains
in the desert wastes.
"Woe to you who laugh now,
for you shall mourn and weep."
Woe to lives that banish sorrow;
we who insulate our walls from pain:
our eyes know no flowing tears;
our hearts no rending.
For no joy can speak from isolation.
Light has no meaning but for shadow.
Tear away our placard smiles
and baptize our souls in tears.
May we find our wisdom in sorrow;
our consolation in the breaking;
that joy would fall swiftly,
echoing from the wastes
and weeping.
"Woe to you when all men speak well of you."
Oh, the likeness of sinful man,
his countenance shining
in the midst of shame,
exalted easily
though mercurially found.
Staring at the kingdoms of the world,
pledging his allegiance
for the price of fame.
Forbid,
that his feet should strike stone
when lifted
on the hands of family and friends and followers.
Forbid,
that justice is found
and frowned upon
lest his heart demand decision.
Forbid,
that truth
should not meet with adulation;
that honesty
should mingle with pain.
Oh, the heart of the modern man.
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones
those who are sent to her! How I often wanted to gather your
children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under
her wings, and you were unwilling."
