"Holy," a Poem by Martin Williams

We chained it.
We bricked it up in walls.
We tied it in a sack
             and threw it in the river

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             the ocean
             bottomless pits.
We left it in the woods to die.
We left it in the ghetto to die.
We left it on an ice flow
             with a pile of sticks
             when wolves were near.
We rebuked it in the name of Christ.
We waved incense at it.
We had a priest and holy crows
             dance it out in the roman night.
We had the fists of brothers
             pound it out
             had it pounded out
             on djembes and congas
             and skulls by lathed limbs.
We burned it at the stake.
We buried it with the dead,
             gave it a life sentence.
We called it darkness.
We called it Death.
We called it shadow and Satan
            and the sins of the father.

It's the only thing about us
            that's still holy.