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Poetry

03/22/2017


Orange Insurrection
 

 

In the chapel in the city jail,
Inmates sat in orange clad,
Pondering why they could not make bail —
Regretting the past they had.
 
“Turn to Luke four, verse eighteen and more.
‘He anointed me: proclaim
Good news to captives, broken and poor,’
To release you in Christ’s Name.”
 
Revolution began in their minds;
Governments of Self collapsed.
The Breath of God blew open their blinds —
And in His breeze, they relaxed.
 

 

By Peter C. Venable