Hopeful Hands in Shadow Lands

Adam — driven to damnation,
Still a fount of perturbation,
Since we see his ghost, now sinking,
Wrath the fount at which he’s drinking!

Hell is jealous more than heaven,
We are six and never seven,
Shy of making fullness patent,
Wrath within, confounding, latent.

I will choose eleven, thank you,
Twelve too much and not my purview,
Or thirteen is not a dozen,
(Better suited to a sloven).

Spirits courting demons ever,
Witnessing to Jesus never,
In a spiral of frustration,
Stepping stones to ruination.

Devils forged of Adam’s body,
But perverted, wry and shoddy,
Seeking to defile our beauty,
Stealing blessings like a booty.

Jesus prayed in paroxysm,
To perform an exorcism,
Plunging down into the hell scape,
White against a blackened landscape.

Reaching out for mankind sordid,
‘Just one chance’ had been awarded,
God’s decision to retrieve us,
By the sacred work of Jesus.

Still, the devils proved defiant,
Rank, perverse and non compliant,
We will never serve this person,
Though the scene will surely worsen.

Now, in fever pitch of anguish,
Men and women sadly languish,
Praying for the heart of mercy,
To placate this controversy…

ADL