Whip Of Cords (A Poem About Divine Rage)

Whip Of Cords (A Poem About Divine Rage) April 6, 2020

When Jesus sat
Twisting his whip of cords
Together, how hard
Did he bite down
With each twist
Of the rope
As each knot
Was firmly pulled
Into place?

How long from the time
He first heard coins clinking
In his father’s house
Till the moment when coins

Were strewn into the dust
As wood was splintered?

Did he lick his lips
When his whip tasted flesh?
Does he bite his lip
When biblical commentators
Reassure their audience
That this was a symbolic
Act in which no blood
Was drawn which cannot
Be used by the Marxists
To claim Jesus as one of their own?

And when the children screamed
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
Who were these children
And how were they in the temple
Courtyard? Were they

Children of the rich
Who had been chastised
Not to speak to anyone
As they waited for Father
To purchase the gifts
To put on the altar
Much in the way that
Christians would buy pews
For their families in later years?

Or were they the same
Children who played flute
In a crowded marketplace
Dressed in filthy rags
Whom nobody noticed
Because the poor
Are always with us?

What makes a child say
This is my king?
Is it a man who uses
The proper channels
To find a solution that
Works for all parties involved?

Or is it a man
Who sees Satan
And whips him in the face?

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