The moon, a white gold crescent of Mohammad, a light in the spring solstice sky,Sufis, dervishes dancing in its light,
And Jesus walks on earth in the form of our brother,
And yet He suffers, harmed and crucified.
Ah, this golden light, this silver sliver, under which the soul cannot die,
Wine bringer, drunkard, dancing without sight,
We kill God, when we make ourselves, our sister suffer,
For she is Christ personified.
Leslie Walsh March 14, 2013
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