Never Ready-Made

It’s homeless snowfall
It’s melancholia’s folly
Hastening to the hill country
It’s Caspar’s Kreuz im Gebirge
Rebellious obedience, “Live!”
It’s war transfixed by Otto Dix
It’s Vonnegut’s slaughter-house five
It’s rushing past Rubens and Rembrandt
To see Paton’s Luther in Erfurt use
His Rosary for a bookmark
It’s Dresden’s Frauenkirche restored
Never ready-made
The discarded
The ignored
It’s KZ forced-labor unemployed
It’s piety’s playground
It’s blue collar work
It’s pregnant laughter
Turning heads in a dying church
It’s the bride’s surrender to her groom
It’s a baby’s kick in a mother’s womb
It’s waking up in a borrowed tomb
It’s washing my hands of Him
Then watching Him wash my feet
It speaks to the greatest among us
But keeps company with the least
Always becoming
It’s getting wilder, older, bolder
It’s a kitchen-match martyr
Struck against an army of wooden soldiers
It’s, “Thou art”
It sets life’s fluke apart from the crown of life
It’s a child’s balance weighing
The smile of silence
It’s irrational numbers
It’s the joy of Law
In casting lots it’s the last straw
The final choice before choosing
Between madness and murder
Finding the other before it’s too late
When the love of many will have grown cold
For not all have faith
But the Lord is faithful
And He sees all.

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