J of H and C of F
Jesus of History, my voice cries out
to you! The Christ of Faith is what I reach
beyond the storm clouds of my daily doubt.
Jesus of History, my voice cries out–
and doesn’t quite know what it cries about.
Some of us are impossible to teach,
Jesus of History. My voice cries out
to you! The Christ of Faith is what I reach.
–Tom Riley
Superior People
The superior people agree:
only some can receive liberty;
only some have the grace
to endure open space;
and that doesn’t include you or me.
–Tom Riley
Useless Mouth
Hey, I’ve eaten your bread and your cheese
and your apples and all your canned peas
and your chicken and steak.
But my innards still ache.
Do you own any feasts beyond these?
–Tom Riley
Christmas Surprise
(for Bailey Sciambra)
What a surprise I had at Sunday Mass!
The edges of illusion shrank — and you
were there! Where I had wailed a dire alas,
I now thought: Frabjous day! Callay! Callooh!
Sounds of rejoicing should have been my clue.
General reverence should have been my proof.
I should have felt the current running through
the parish. But my spirit held aloof
until the evidence cried: Hey, you goof,
Bailey indeed is back — so your despair,
like a mere puff of smoke, can now go poof!
Lad, have a Merry Christmas — and don’t stare!
And thus it is: my heart’s no longer sick.
My threat to shoot a reindeer did the trick.
–Tom Riley
Skilled
Lad, your technical skill is now keen.
You’re no longer a novice, and green
as a fine vine just sprouted.
But your aim must be doubted.
What the hell, we all ask, do you mean?
–Tom Riley
Missed Call
Someone called — but he answered too slow.
Someone called. Let the mystery grow!
Souls must sadly confess
faiths have blossomed from less.
Someone called. Who? We simply can’t know.
–Tom Riley
Artophage
“He that eateth of this bread shall live for ever.”
–John 6:58
He was about to give his flesh to eat–
and what a scandal he would thereby cause!
Those words would rankle, strangely incomplete,
even more than the Pharisees’ hard laws.
Those words would give disciples sudden pause
century on offended century.
Even now, the offense, unblunted, gnaws
at those who find they simply can’t agree.
They offer rationales unceasingly
for their insistence that he didn’t mean
the words he said — for how can such things be?
The plain sense is unbearably obscene!
They squirm on hooks they can’t escape. Instead
of squirming so, I simply eat the bread.
–Tom Riley
Listed
They have put you, my lad, on their list.
They have noted your face and your fist.
Your mind puzzles them still–
but they’re cursing your will.
Their sign says that you must not resist.
–Tom Riley
Flammeus Gladius 