Jerusalem, Jerusalem —
We’re not so different,
You and I. I am the man.
I kill the prophets
sent to me to speak
of wrath and ruin, of
the imminent great fall
of my house and
the burning of my barns.
It would seem that
when you get a hammer,
everything looks like
a nail, and a savior looks
like a criminal.


One Comment

  1. Ah, Trent. In this I see myself. Thank you, dear Son.

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