Afar I beheld Golgotha: Upon its high hill, stood three crosses, each made of bunker-busting bombs, upright and across. Upon the left one, hung Saddam. Upon the right one, hung the Taliban Mullah (whose name I've long forgotten). Not far away, I can see suits constructing yet another! But in the middle ... Oh! in the middle on that sacred cross of high technology: Hang two children: the one is Ignorance; the other is Hunger; ... flesh torn, hearts broken, minds blasted.
But at the foot of the crosses, I behold ... Men and women weeping ... Their tears flood out upon the ground; Their cries reverberate through the ether. The suits shout that tears and cries must hang. Then their tears ignite ... They reach up and pull down the children and the thieves ... and they pull down the crosses. They hammer the bombs into tractors. They hammer the bombs into schools. They pour their lives into the children ... and the thieves. And the suits still build their cross, ... but there is no longer anyone to hang.
©2003 John A. Mills
Published in Easter Rhymes; Sarah Marshall, ed.