Sadie Bartels

Beatitudes

They are the repentant, poor in spirit They look down on the proud from golden thrones Their judgement is harsh, and all men fear it

They are mourners over morality’s bones Of a world rotted by unclean hands Repaired only by their righteous groans

They are the meek, as gentle as lambs They bless the worthless other with a smile Resenting that other, their sins and their scams

Their hunger for righteousness rises like bile They stomp and they scream for spilt blood When their victim’s the other, it’s all worthwhile

Their mercy flows out in a earth-shaking flood That cleanses an Earth unworthy of its holiness Who really cares about the death and the mud?

They are the clean, pure, without brokenness All that they touch is purified in fire They carry no guilt, they ask no forgiveness

They are the diplomats, to peace they aspire Yet they are foiled by that other, stubborn, sordid The blame can’t be theirs, for they are the higher

They are the persecuted, chased by the horrid Though goodness they sought, they reap only hate For all their good deeds, this is how they’re rewarded

Alas, they were blind, now it is their fate To pay for their pride, their evil, their loathing For they insult God’s love, and call themselves great

Thus when their end comes, deprived of their boasting They’ll look at the other, and see there a face A face that was wanting, and loving, and hoping

The face of another bearing no disgrace So this is the other, the blessed and saved And they were the monster, cruel, without grace