BLIND GUIDES

Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cross sea and land to make a single convert, and you make the new convert twice as much a child of hell as yourselves.” — Matthew 23:15

Then he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and spread the mud over the blind man’s eyes. He told him, “Go wash yourself in the pool of Siloam” (Siloam means “sent”). So the man went and washed and came back seeing! — John 9:6-7

We hoard wealth,  

call it blessing,  

hunt immigrants

call it safety. 

What sorrow awaits!

We wield violence, 

call it righteous,

slash aid funds, 

call it justice.

What sorrow awaits! 

We drown out the cries 

of the hungry with prayers—

pausing only to say, 

“They got what they deserved.”

What sorrow awaits! 

We strain out the gnats, 

just to swallow camels— 

neuter mercy, twist truth, 

warp virtue, scrap grace. 

Blind guides! What sorrow awaits you!

With praise on our lips, 

we whitewash the tombs— 

deadrot inside, but oh,  

how they gleam!

Snakes! Sons of vipers! What sorrow awaits! 

We prate, preen, plot, 

while you, you spit 

on the ground and 

move towards us—

your muddy hands 

wide as your grin.