Nine Souls in Silence Testify

Nine souls in silence testify to them:
When struck, turn the other, he said.
Go further than compelled. When hated, love.
Return good for ill. Give thieves the rest.

Too hard these words, for mortals, weak,
our will to live, protect, too strong,
too real for such dream-like ideals,
and if he'd not himself (it's said)
ridden them to gory ends and bled
we'd think no more of them or him.

What faith it takes to claim such words
could this blood-thirsty world renew,
return for violence gentleness,
and grace for arms that pound the nails
for hands that point and pull.

His words too obviously made no sense
to closest friends or we today
who claim his name and bridal bed.
Our aged deacons and family men
carry to church the things we trust,
bang! bang! six shots in those purses,
in a bellyband seventeen curses.

Who can blame us for these household gods,
like Abram brought from Ur, unable to dismiss
the comforting touch, the empowering bliss,
the heft of metal and well-machined shine,
the clean scent of Hoppes Solvent No. 9?

Would I betray him in the garden, too,
like Peter rush in to defend something
I cannot understand, my zeal reveal
how weak I thought his words
when faced with strangers
armed to arrest our prayer?
Would his rebuke so shock my thoughts
that I'd--like Peter--disavow his name?
"I never knew him at all, I guess,
nor followed those absurdities he says."

Of such things what could he have known?
We live with haters who think death
is theirs to deal, who have the means
to dole it out with quickness never seen.
Our hand-held gods, far easier to comprehend
than all that talk of turning cheeks, those fanatical notions,
those impractical words.

Words that could get us killed.

When evil calls, could I really say,
"Love will break your heart, for I forgive you today."
Or would I leave those sentiments for the pew
and whip out my Deutsche-Werks Ortgies .32?

Nine souls in silence testify
to a bitter, an awful strength
to love those who hate
to the point of death,
for the sake of a transformed world,
to give birth to the love we wish could really be,
for a posture of gratitude
before the joy and the mystery
the brilliance and brevity
of a graceful life.