The world has not been still

since the stirring of the Unmoved Mover

for when The Ground of Being shook,

none could remain upright.


When the sacrifice was presented,

Its mere presence was resented

as a disturber of the peace

to be treated with disdain.

That which was most Sacred

was branded most Profane.


But if an offering consecrated

lost,  broken, desecrated

could find the strength to rise

rise and walk again,

things have fundamentally shifted

and will never be the same.

The Sacred has bent, not broken,

and refined the  Profane.


Now we, an infant nation,

to explain our salvation

display his humiliation

in chains around our necks;

a gesture  that some call masochistic

and others call insane

for  they see a vision Sacred

being carved in the Profane.


The three tiers  have collapsed together

From barriers made free

and to separate them anew

is misguided piety.

The curtain is torn, the altar exposed!

Nothing can be the same,

not after this collision

of the Sacred and Profane.

Were it not for the novel Silence by Shusaku Endo, this poem probably wouldn’t exist.  It is an amazing novel that everyone should read.


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