A Convention Meditation

Thoughts upon a picture distributed at a diocesan convention, after lectures on the Kingdom of God, the Church, and our seemingly endless love affair with earthly power…

Triptych, Redux

You wait in rhythmic ranks,

            Frozen and timeless, aloof and secure;

Ivory butterflies without concern,

            Save for the flowering Imperial Christ

                         Holding all by unseen force.

We, your egalitarian successors, salute you,

            We lift our fair-trade coffee

To our unfair lips in grudging admiration

            For what you are, or were, and

                        What we still half want.

Our pensions, position, power and place

            Betray our rants, chants and daring poses:

We are radicals, Oh yes, until

            We feel the weight of our cross.

                        Then we look back at you

Furtively, in envy’s green light.

            We wonder:

Where will we fit ourselves

            In your silent, secure parade?

                        Where is our recycled, righteous triptych found?