A House of Prayer

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Overturned tables,
cages where doves were imprisoned,
once,
now broken,
like dried bones on the stone floor.
Coins,
Roman currency
spilled out like a ruptured bowel.
The anger of the one cheered yesterday
brings silence
to the onlookers.
Hosannas are silenced.

Pharisees plot
and merchants fill with outrage,
fists in the air,
curses on their tongues.
The temple is a den for thieves,
not God's will,
but man's.
Have those who stand at His side
ever seen such anger?
Have they ever been the focus
of such wrath?

Break apart this temple,
this vessel of the spirit.

Rip each stone from the foundation,
each limb from the body.

Destroy the very structure of man's design,
impale the flesh of God's creation.

On the third day
the tomb will open
and the temple will be filled
with the spirit they once tried to sell.



copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr

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