Some say
God doesn’t punish,

That vengeance
Is just human perception
Since reality
Offers no meaning
But man’s cruelty
Left in fate’s wake.

At home I was taught
Something different,

How experience
Builds our compassion
Through these hardships
Mutually suffered
At the hands of hate
Doing harm –

A vicarious hurt
Often shared
When watching crime
Ravage cities
While spoken prayers
Go unanswered
But heroic acts
Cure disease,

This plague called sin
Twisting hope
Into countless needs
Never realized
As children raised
Without parents
Learn jobs yield love
At sale price.

Maybe all faith
Remains dead,

Watching young crowds
Take their photos
On smartphones
Posing distracted,

Seeing emptiness
Grinning for likes –

But belief dies hard
Left intact
Among those souls
Bearing witness,

Worried Christ Himself
Answers vaguely
So art must speak
Now instead.

Help me find
That smiling Jesus,

True divinity
Painted with poems

Outside textbooks
Pushing religion
Not everyone thinks
Appears good –

Mortal prejudice
Often disguised
By an imagery
Mocking existence,

Knowing damn well
Heaven watches
Rather than help
Where it can.

• J. Pigno