There are truths so great
that we can only believe them
through lies. It is that, or broken bliss
of enlightened destruction.
And it is hard to look at destruction
especially of beautiful things, of
pregnant women state by state,
country by country, and accept.
I am a criminal, but aren't you?
All of us condemned to death.
We are born broken; they say we heal.
I say the brokenness remains.
To say: I am not a serial killer.
To get: to the bottom of things.
I approach the limits of understanding
to find dictionaries writ by angels.
They said He would be born again this year.
The signs were unseen by most, never
playing on a superbowl half-time show,
but I saw. And more, believed.
And they said, men and not angels, 33 years.
The same pattern, the same story, to live
to die to be the second coming.
And I said: "why wait that long?"
I killed the mothers to stop Him, to save Us.
All of us, from judgement and damnation
Because there is no compassion where
there is judgement, and this is our world we made.
In the end, He is just another chain to trap us,
golden but still a chain for all that, promising
salvation and miracles and that we need never save
ourselves, offering easy payments, instalment plans.
I only prevented a thing worse than Hitler,
another hatred of humanity trying to make us
into angels and not men: I only saved
the world, price cheaper than I thought prices could be.
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