Published on: April 1st, 2011
Paschal Lamb
Published in:
Living Worship
They’ve bared your sweet-clovered belly –
you . . . who knelt near still waters, and
slept in lush pastures.
Without blemish, he said, and
you were herded home,
high-stepping our muddy streets
with feigned concern.
Winsome, you charmed us, but
your blood was more precious –
we’ve killed for less.
And so we wipe warm, sticky masses of it,
red-wash our splintered doorways and
stick-out-our-tongues
at the angel of death.
—Judith L. Roth
