by Ken Sehested
In praise of the Blessed One who
refuses to be named and tamed,
Who emboldens those previously
bearing no name—no privilege,
no recognition, the illegitimi of
the world—to rise up with
astonishing courage and against
all odds to challenge the webs of
corruption, injustice, and mortal
threat fashioned by politicians,
peddlers, prosecutors, and priests
who honor no truth save that of
their own seething imagination,
who broach the ancient boundaries
of shared beneficence, who sell
Heaven’s manna to the highest
bidder, whose security demands
foreclose on all who lack tribute,
and whose blessing is confined to
those staid to the lies inflicting
every plundered field, deaf to the
cries of those prostrate in mourning
and affliction. Easter in us, Tree of
all life and Trestle of every hope’s
flight from ruin’s despair. Vouchsafe
the promise, to earth’s castaways,
of the resurrecting morning to
come, whose approach opens
wide the gates of hell swallowing
every crucifying power.