Here
take this creaky basket
and collect all the rejected stones:
the wolves, the pigeons, the buffaloes,
shot dead as gravel for the roads
of this precious start-up town
Take them deep into the temple
and place them as altar-offering.
Let them fill the church
and preach the sermon
and break the bread
and invoke the Spirit.
The rejected will Sunday rejoice
front and center
wall to wall
they’ll build a forest in the sanctuary
thinking back before the fall.
The nations will come streaming
their eyes like rivers penitent
amidst sobs and songs of praise
the wolves will give absolution
the buffaloes speak blessings
and the pigeons circle
wide inside the golden dome.