No revolution will come in time
to alter this man's life
except the one
surprise of being loved.
It is too late to talk of Civil Rights,
neo-Marxism
psychiatry
or any kind of sex.
He has only twelve more hours to live.
Forget about
a cure for cancer, smoking, leprosy
or osteo-arthritis.
Over this dead loss to society
you pour your precious ointment,
wash the feet
that will not walk tomorrow.
Mother Teresa, Mary Magdalene,
your love is dangerous, your levity
would contradict
our local gravity.
But if love cannot do it, then I see
no future for this dying man or me.
So blow the world to glory,
crack the clock. Let love be dangerous.
Sydney Carter (1915 – 2004) England
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