It is not lost on me

That I was sent away during holy times

First, when we anticipated hope and light

Born into the darkness

Cast out among celebrations

Of joy and peace and love.

Is it not lost on me

That I returned to find nothing but callousness

A strangeness in the air that lacked

The promise of the Christ.

For a second time I was sent away as we

Collectively contemplated

Death.

Twice over wandering in the wilderness

Looking for a well

Told that banishment would be good for me

As the knife of betrayal was still buried in my back

Commiserating with the psalmist

And the man who cried from the cross

Eloi Eloi, lema sabachthani?

But what is lost on me

Is how the gospel has become

So malformed as to claim

Punishment is grace and

Exile is an attempt to reconcile.

You lost me on that one.