Healing On Sabbath
As apes that muddled the streams rather than quenching their thirst
Pharisees went to the temple for mischief; not to pray.
Like death-stalker scorpions, in stinging, they were well-versed
In the man with a drooped hand, the predators found their prey.
Compassion, like nectar from the herb, dripped from Jesus.
He saw the withered-handed, by psychic worries, stranded
Empowered by the heavens, to reform the egregious
To him, to stretch his hand, he compassionately commanded
The hypocrites, as though the crane that found a fish, arose
They brought the Sabbath laws that stood always with them, like guards.
They shot allegations at Jesus like brutish arrows.
With a sun-lit smile, he looked at them with loving regards
Do not clog the flow of the streams of love of the divine.
Isn't abundance of love, the divinity's design?
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