Judicial Access


Refined, hideous, buried to elbows in
the chafing dish of vengeance,
we sit behaved around God's parlor
hoping not to break His things.
When our personal courts convene
we announce our thirst for righteousness,
insatiably dine on judging others,
and practice pocket-picking hoarding
of sweet revenge and justice delayed;
forbidden fruits saved for private gorging.
Manners minded as if we were tourists
guided through The Garden,
we hope to swipe some souvenirs
we can use to rule the world.
We dance between the lines of scriptures
without touching on the Ark,
that Holybox of Godified Truth,
then exhibit the gall to clear our throats,
proudly declare whose right and wrong,
pretend to steal attention for the holiest of crusades.

Copyright (c) 2006 Gary Brown