The Last Supper of Hope
The Last Supper of Hope
Grief has exhausted itself
And pain has abandoned the heart;
Emptiness now lives where joy
Once called home.
Our streets have become cisterns
Of blood—death quenching its thirst—
Flashbacks of the belly bowels of slave ships
Flying flags of crosses and crescent moons alike.
Hell remains without fury—never discriminating;
And Dante smiling—spits in the face of justice.
Today Armageddon sits at the Last Supper;
May hope be the Bread and Wine. And
Judas forgets to RSVP.
Copyright © Millard Lowe | Year Posted 2016
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