Twenty-one years ago, albeit not on Christmas morning, I wrote a poem of a different tenor.
Is what I wrote to thee, those years ago,
But vile men tear the Christmas dream apart,
To make a cudgel with it even so.
If this then be thy sword, Lord Jesus Christ,
I vow these so-called evangelicals
Abhorrent to my sight; to thine, I wist,
As they preach in the squares and shopping malls.
How far they stray, beyond the point of hope,
As they both urge and agitate for hatred,
Invective leading toward the lynch-mob's rope,
As to base impulse their base cant has catered.
I disavow these men, Americans:
Lord, tear this church down when you have a chance.