A little sonnet I was working on combining Matthew 15 themes with some other ideas.
They are not pleased with what I teach today,
Nor are they soothed with any word I say,
Tell me teacher, if that is what ye be,
What is it that defiles; food, wind, or sea?
They say the pots cleaned in the kitchen too,
Or what’s in the bottom of the priests’ loo?
The dirtiest muck runs not in the street,
Nor does it cross by your uncovered feet,
It walks and it climbs from your open mouth,
Where the words of your heart go north and south,
To harm and do evil in all direction,
Stabbing souls with verbal insurrection,
Love wounded by merely the smallest words,
Foul, foul words render me mute not absurd.