How easily the words
Slither like the snake in Eden’s garden,
Reeking of deceit.
I am the Levite and the Priest,
Rolled into one,
For I’ve refused to love,
My neighbor as myself.
Behold the man that I refuse to see,
Cold my contempt for him,
For having left Jerusalem ,
To jaunt in Jericho.
Self righteously I cross the road,
As far away from him as I can get,
Yet I dare to sit upon God’s throne,
Consigning him to hell.
While I make haste lest I be late,
To make my own ascent to Zion.
No time to love my neighbor as myself,
To wash and bathe his wounds,
With the gentle oil of kindness.
I withhold the wine,
Of my compassion,
I have no unction sweet,
To salve his hurt and heal his heart,
So unlike the Good Samaritan.
Myra D’Souza / 6th October 2011