The Last Supper of Hope

CATEGORY

life

The Last Supper of Hope

Grief has exhausted itself

And pain has abandoned the heart;

Emptiness now lives where joy

Once called home.

Our streets have become cisterns

Of blood—death quenching its thirst—

Flashbacks of the belly bowels of slave ships

Flying flags of crosses and crescent moons alike.

Hell remains without fury—never discriminating;

And Dante smiling—spits in the face of justice.

Today Armageddon sits at the Last Supper;

May hope be the Bread and Wine.  And

Judas forgets to RSVP.