At this altar in the grand temple I kneel
Making my sacrifice, my faithful daily sacrifice,
To appease these our gods.
And as I pray
I feel the returning doubts
That perhaps things are not as they would have me believe.
Perhaps these fickle gods, so like ourselves,
Are only a product of our fickle minds
And of the Greeks we conquered.
It was nearly a week ago, six risings of the sun,
And I was traveling through the dawn-bathed marketplace.
I saw Jesus of Nazareth, the carpenter's son.
Change had graced his simple mien
With authority and wisdom was in his voice.
Surely it was a power more powerful
Than the impotent statues above this altar
(mingling with smoke of dust and blood)
That healed the lepers through him.
Hastily I start up from the altar.
What is this?
Have I fallen from grace with the gods of my fathers,
Thinking blasphemy with my head and evil with my heart?
Yet...I must go again.
Yes, I will go again.
I will hear the carpenter's son, ask him,
And perhaps find a whole truth in his God.
3/96
Lindley Williamson
I composed this poem during my sophomore year in high
school for a Latin class poetry contest. It was disqualified for not having enough to do
with the Romans - why, I never quite figured out. But at any rate, here it is. :)
