The Pacifist
Todd Matson
for ten weeks straight
he preached peace
at the height of the war
to a congregation full of hawks
he was the resident dove
shot full of holes
wearing his holes like
military badges and medals
proud to be a pacifist
never once in ten years
of theological education to
critically reflect upon or question
his presuppositions or assumptions
which served as the hallowed bedrock
for his unyielding, dogmatic conviction
that it is always and forever
for anyone and everyone
morally right to be a pacifist
until the tenth Sunday
of his undeclared war
in a theological fire fight
with his bloodied congregation
from his bully pulpit
he spoke of
the Iranian boy
who came from
his war-torn hell
to the “home of the brave”
only to hide under his kitchen table
on the 4th of July
because our “rockets red glare”
replayed his worst nightmares
and with those eloquent words
he sat down from his bully pulpit
never more proud to be a pacifist
and though the closing hymn
listed in the bulletin that Sunday
was none other than Amazing Grace
the people chose to sing
Battle Hymn of the Republic
