You Be the Judge

The question came up, like yesterday’s vomit:
What do I think of the “faithful” centurion?
Well, he believes the Master can heal;
I believe I am going to be sick.

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The Spirit’s upon him—
    But what about me?
For Him it’s “fulfillment.”
    For me, it’s obscene.
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The Lord brought me to Tabor,
To the mountain of Galilee,
And the elders were there—
The wise and the sage,
The foolish and the proud,
Along with a host,
All the tribes of the King.
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Dear Applicant,

Thank you for your interest
In joining our glorious, elite
And ill-defined venture.
We are sure you will somehow
Manage to make a great asset
Of yourself in our company.

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On Sunday
I walked away from God
And opened an old wound
Peeled back the scab
Tugged at the ragged edges
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This, Lord, is my shepherd?
What does he want?
He bade me recline
With tax collectors.
He led me into a night
Of loud drinking.
He confuseth my soul.

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It gets worse.

I stood by the wall,
Watched, arms
Crossed. Sweat
Rolled
Down my calves.
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Well, the Jesus Freaks came to town this week,
   And in case you didn’t know:
We’re the blokes you see up from Galilee
   With the lepers all in tow…

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and he came to the shore
While the crowd pressed in
And nets were being cleaned

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