Bless’d bones! The Church is ossified and white

without the mess of human intercourse,

a skeleton, with neither breath nor force;

a heritage, a past, a pleasant sight.

Can these bones live? Can Lazarus emerge?

No residue of spirit to inflame?

No ounce of faith, repentance, hint of shame

to chant Te Deum, else intone a dirge?

Priest precedents lack credibility

reveal immoral, hidden, wickedness

their sacred power used to harm not bless

they evoke not love; instead hostility.

The people stumble, without a shepherd, guide.

Did we not care that Christ, for them, was crucified?