It’s a normal day in the
office,
mostly boring with nothing great
planned
When the phone rings, not
routine any more,
nor boring, nor quiet, nor bland.
But a man disabled and
living with pain,
whom the locals have started
attacking-
Name calling at first, then
throwing things,
coming closer when punishment’s
lacking.
There’s no choice to be
made,
it’s just not hard to know
That it’s wrong, and a
crime,
and I tell the man so.
I call the Police, go as
high as I can,
And find a policeman,
who’ll visit that man.
And I long to know
that the cowards were caught,
And taken to court
and a sharp lesson taught,
Though I don’t really think
that it’s so.
It’s a normal day in the
parish,
assembled on Sunday to pray
And the man who’s leading
the prayers
is ever so clearly gay.
We think we know his value
–
musician we love to have play
But we didn’t know how much
we’d hurt him
til we heard what his prayers had
to say.
“We pray for those socially
unacceptable people
who long to be who they are.”
Unpartnered now maybe for
ever,
he will celibate go to his grave
Because we couldn’t allow
him
the love that it’s human to
crave.
I wonder if Jesus will
bless us,
as Bibles held firmly in hand
We march in our holy
procession
towards his promised land
Or whether he’ll say that
Aquinas
was simply a man of his time,
And explain that he’s told
Paul of Tarsus
what the God of love thinks of
his crime.
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