Joseph's Betrayal
Who said it wasn't dirty?
Even rock will break down
faced with the insistent growing thing.
It wasn't the amazing light
but something in the darkness that changed.
People talked. I'm no fool.
Can I forgive her — God —
for doing this to me?
Without messengers, would I fold the betrayal
and set it aside?
Not only me — but all of us —
expecting so much more.
Do we settle now for this dirty salvation.
After all this history, our beautiful myths
turned inside out to reveal a pulpy core,
the ugly seed.
Do we run to the arms of another god
or start over in a stable,
nursing this difficult aching
with careless hope.
I do not understand the rushing presence in the night
that asks me to believe.
Believe this, now — after everything?
She was perfection
simple true,
like the precious promise.
Now the circle closes and I stand outside.
Who has been duped?
What place is there for me here?
If I can't forgive, I can rescue appearances.
They need me to clean things up.
It is not done.
So far, we have only uncovered
the ugly seed and dirtied our hands.
If angels sing perhaps it is an accident.
Who knows what we do in our sleep?
