The stone that the builders rejected
has become the chief cornerstone.
The king enters the city
on his war horse
while across town
love rides a donkey.
Guns and towers, vast machines,
engines. Generals boast
of victory over the child,
the hard edge over soft flesh.
The powerful strut and shamble,
loudspeakers announce their lies.
If there were money in darkness
they’d dismiss the sun.
God slips in through
the locked gate, the high wall.
In their high offices the light
is invisible to them.
The judge, the warden, the guards
believe you’re nothing.
You’ll never convince them otherwise.
But the stars know. The air knows.
Your peasant heart
rides a donkey, small and tender.
Honor the Royal Majesty
of the heart that belongs to love.
—March 22, 2018