Is it within, without, was it always
someone else’s tool that they used
to abuse, confuse and cruise their
hate through another’s quick crisis.
Hell hath no fury? Give them hell.
Hell is – other people said Sartre,
The road to hell is paved with –
good intentions. I felt like hell; are
just the many man made ways we
use a word that holds the world in
contempt; forgets to tell of the one
who came to hell and withstood its
snares, despair, and vile wares.
He sparred as he harrowed hell
on a lonely hillside, braved alone,
and faced the dreadful darkness down.
He attacked it within and as death
lost its power. he cowered it across
the land, until hell punched the air
with joy over the sealed dark tomb.
Dead, he harrowed evil o’er and more,
til he rose above the empty grave,
and hope erupted, gilding the day
and building a way for you and for
me to crush and push and thrust
hell, hushing its voice in a troubled
land and hassling it in our hearts
to pulse anew with joy and grace.
To seek it, wreak it, break it and
there in the darkest moment we
will find the candle set there by
a loving, grieving pearl of God.