A flashing, fleeting, sometimes disturbing
insight into mystery;
leaned towards, grasped after,
shared, delighted in
and meditated upon.
It becomes a source of joy and hope and healing;
yes, and then it is argued and debated,
memorised, written, codified, engraved,
painted, and sculpted in stone.
Thus religions begin,
take shape,
and transmute into sacred edifices.
In the normal course,
through the operation of time,
they are made tame, domesticated, polite.
Gaining respectability, they proceed
to participate in the intricate processes
of politics and power.
Thus the Teacher confronts
and warns against the Scribes
and the Pharisees who justify and defend
the religion of their day.
His own humble insights
will follow the same tragic trajectory
through two millennia,
to be perverted by power
and sad politics.
Would that we had the courage
and the determination to free them;
to paint coarsely, across pretending walls
of bluestone, brick, and glass,
his ancient but not quite forgotten message.
A word sprayed defiantly
for neighbour and for enemy,
or scrawled urgently in humble chalk;
four letters.
© Ken Rookes 2020
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