110 (in the upper sky lamped)

IN THE UPPER sky, lamped by science,

the night forgets itself,

while in the underground gloom

lean hunger and bloated voracity

crash against each other

till the earth begins to tremble

and the pillars of triumph

are perilously cracked,

swaying on the brink of gaping gulfs.

Do not howl in fear

or angrily judge God,

let the swelling evil burst itself in pain

and vomit out its accumulated filth.

When the victims of a carnivorous rage

are dragged by the competition of ravenous fangs,

let the hideousness of the blood-soaked blasphemy

arouse divine anger heralding a heroic peace

out of an awful retribution.

They throng in the church

in a primitive frenzy of faith made keen by fear

which hopes to flatter their God

into a complacent mood

into a feebleness of leniency.

They feel half sure that peace will be brought down

into this demented earth

by the mere volume of their wailing

uttered in sacred text.

They have confidence in their indulgent God

who may send them timely wisdom

to divert all sacrifices needed for the worship

towards the less strong,

leaving their own soiled hoardings undivided.

But let us hope,

for the sake of the dignity of moral justice in this world,

that God will never suffer to be cheated of His due

by the miserly manipulation of a diplomatic piety

carefully avoiding all cost to itself,

that a terrible penance may have to be passed through

to its ultimate end,

leaving no remnant of poison

in a treacherously healing scar.