It will be
As we are today,
As the days of Noah were;
Busy – with our gods
And giggling games,
Our getting and giving,
Our pocketed leaders,
Powers, and the prisons
We make for those
We see as ours –
Or different, other
– Or others’

Into all this
The clarion sounds
From east to west,
From past to future to now:
Sending out angels,
Churches’ messengers
(How beautiful are their feet!)
Bursting with good news
(For the captive, the desperate,
The hopeless, forgotten, all
Fodder for populists and
Extremists alike), proclaiming:
“Your God reigns.”

He is near,
At the very gates!
He comes swiftly,
Sudden as a thief in the night
(Yet loud and clear)
To snatch back those
He names his own,
To gather, to ‘buy back’
Prodigals sold (to us)
For nothing. He need not
Pay, will not bargain;
Offers neither money
Nor recompense.

Then doom is nigh,
If God is king, and we but
Tenants after all!
Our sun is darkened,
Moon denied, there are
No stars to guide our fall!
The Son of Man –
of all mankind the heir –
Stares down our
Nationalistic tribes, who
Mourn, their Powers tumbled,
Humbled, from exalted ‘heavens’
To the dusty earth.

We always thought
They were different, who
Forgave, nurtured, lived not
For now, for mine, for
Us and Them. Now, we are
Left behind, sent empty away,
While they are filled, stolen
From among us,
From the holes and roles
In which we constrained them;
Plucked to reign, to have
Dominion over all
We have usurped.


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