I read a book* years ago
that tarnished my rose-colored soul.
An enraged book that punched
my illusions with fists of concrete,
shattered pious martyr bones.
A book that shouted,
“Don’t humble your backs to
greed of tyrant’s toil.”
A book that consecrated the working man–
his stench and sweat, the sacred chrism.
A book that screamed, “Wake up! Strike back!”
“Now! Life is now!” it shouted.
A revolutionary book, grotesque,
bloody, bereft of prettiness.
A book that implored me to see that
WE are Christ to each other.
* Christ in Concrete