Love Feast Friday Evening

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He raised his hands in praise.  He raised his arms

In song,  no need for Jesus now because

A holiness descended past the harms

Of life.  A spirit hotter than stone laws

Rammed through the room, rammed through the holy room.

A power beyond the sacred Sabbath time,

Past any Sabbath time was like the bloom

Of ghost around him.  Holiness as crime

Reverberated from those hands, from dirt

On fingers he had scrubbed and scrubbed before

He came for worship, but his Lord had hurt

Him in his genes.  His soul was snipped from soar.

  Around those fingers was an aura sent

    From Christ or Satan.  It forbade ascent.

© Phillip Whidden