Offense

I found this poem I had written years ago as a teenager. Anyway, there was this scam called poetry.com (I don’t know if it is still extant or not). The premise was this: it was a poetry contest people entered, and the poems would be printed in a book. Come to find out, the volume was yours for the princely sum of 39.99 plus shipping and handling. The poor dupes were overwhelmed at “winning” the contest and having their poems published. They misspelled “ken” as “can” in my poem.

I was a big fan of the metaphysical poets, in case you can’t tell.

Why doth His blood offend thee?
It was not mere man’s blood that flowed and flows still,
Nay, it is the blood of God, eternal and pure.
Why doth His blood offend thee?

There is more power pouring forth from His veins
than can be in any clear mountain stream to cleanse.
Why doth His blood offend thee?

Ken ye not the bloody deeds, and grievous sins
committed by all, preventing us from Paradise?
Why doth His blood offend thee?

His blood is love, cacading down from His wounds.
It alone can cover and submerge our blackened souls.
And wrap we sinners in His river of righteousness.
O, my Saviour! Thy blood doth not offend me!

Pour Thy purple living tide all o’er me
And immerse Thy creature in Thee, Lord,
Surrounding me with Thee, and a robe of immortality!