Get Your Premium Membership

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 © | Year Posted 2016

Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.