The Iraq war was woe to this life
We live in such a bleak age
Nobody concerned about God
Even as we approach Easter
My Lenten fast sustains my faith
Whilst on TV JC vanishes on a distant horizon
Composed of A&E visits and very bad hangovers;
Behind me, born of an atheist family,
Lurks the shadow of a man
Of a witch, of a priest, of a carpenter, a wizard,
Of a wise man who never catches up with me
But raises his authority to heaven and hell.
And tells me in no uncertain terms
That I should begin to learn the difference
Twixt shadow and substance.
Who  felt the departure of God
Not the shepherds on the hillside
But those who could easily
Raise a sword to kill his brother;
And forget the shadows on poor cottages
Where his blood mixes with the rain.