Mary and I

We lay naked in our hovel

near the Sea called Galilee

I stroked your ink dark hair

as you pressed against my chest

you with child

I with a world so set on hate.

How could I know hate yet I did

it crawled between each pebbled

heart like sand fleas in spring

Still, hate is the grit in every man’s

mind which begs to be released on someone

or some idea. I’ve been chosen

to hang for man’s heresy

God? God is not I nor is He them.

If only I could teach truth without hate.

It is a crime of all mankind,

to hate without understanding

to know without understanding

to kill and die without reason.