This is the third sonnet in this year’s alternating Advent cycle. I took a break from ‘‘sonnet / Japanese septem / sonnet / etc.” for yesterday’s solstice poem, and now it’s time to pick up the next sonnet. This one is written for the Shepherds candle.
Jerusalem demanded lambs to fill the trenches of the temple courtyard floor with rivers flowing, crimson torrents poured around the clock by priests whose killing skill was such they dreamt of slashing throats. The hills around the city couldn’t hold the scores of spotless lambs so they were kept in store by shepherd priests in Bethlehem until their time to kiss the knife drew near. How long those shepherds must have yearned to dry the stones that paved the Court of Priests where oxen groaned and iron filled the nostrils of the throng. When running joyous through the song of peace were they allowed to see the bloodshed cease?
Also in the Advent Series
If you wish to show your support but a paid subscription is out of reach, you can simply buy me a coffee and help me stay awake so I can write more.
Whether or not you choose either of these options, I’m grateful that you’ve chosen to spend time here. Your presence is support enough!
So deeply striking.
I have always felt unnerved by the weight of animal sacrifice. I don't know how to process it even now. I should think God appalled (because I am) then consider that death is the end of every living being. Even so, I thankful for the end of the dispensation of blood.