Inlitterati Lumen Fidei

They print newspapers
that eagerly herald
the end of the world;
ladle out belief
like stale broth,
while my bowl overflows.

I smile, and scorn,
till I see him;
blood neglected by sculptors
who scrape beauty,
carve posture,
poise arms for flight -

- then I weep like Mary,
like Judas,
like countless others
who have wiped away faith
with a handkerchief;
left it to dry on their cheeks.