What Holy Havoc (A Sonnet for The Cleansing of a Temple)

What holy havoc will you not now wreak?

What table will you leave yet undisturbed?

Is there an inch of me you do not seek

To wreck with pierced hands and holy word?

The inner dealings of my temple system, the dark exchanges made — with truth tinged lies

Disheveled and upended by your wisdom — by searing zeal and dread, and by your eyes

Now, for the moment, all my commerce ceases;

The clink of coin, of thought, of self-concern

Now, for the moment, inner noise decreases

The tables of the heart now overturned

With penitential yearning — and wild desire

That you would wreck this place with love and fire

— Christopher James