With austere ambivalence
And benevolent stare
Christ is caught holding
A whip and a chair,
Crucified in Peoria
And everywhere. "What was the one
Wrong thing I did?" he blares,
Exchanging his passion for a peace pipe and air,
Leaving the crippled souls
Down there.
But at this distance
His vision seems more rare,
That he is no further
Or closer here
As when the arms grabbed on his sleeve
They were not seeking miracles as much as
Waiting for miracles to fail
And the optimist promising to kneel and admit
That all he inspired was wrong
That they were right all along.
Such occasional moments sustained them
Even as God brought their troubles to an end.
Bitterness languished beneath the rock
That took Christ beyond them
Laughing how connections are all in the head.
