Merry Christmas

Bitter Wine - A Prayer Poem

Soldiers of the cross trample out the vintage
where the grapes of wrath are stored.
We drink of this bitter wine
and parade on brick plaza;
our children hear the hard step echo
and watch us. Too often,
brokenness cries down their faces.
There is no such thing as child friendly tear gas.
Scarred and scared, children deserve peace.
Onward soldiers, we say.
Let us rather drink from a different vintage:
the grapes of peace, the grace of peace.
“Eat this bread and drink this wine in remembrance of me,”
the adult of the child soon born said.
How many swords
it takes to make a ploughshare,
I do not know. Let us find out.
“All things can end -- even war,” said the child soon born.
“Even war.”
Amen.