A murderous sneer scarred a handsome face,
mouth like a semitar blade as he guarded the tunics of the terrorists.
A strong sun on square shoulders forged determination to iron.
On the rocky mountainside stone missels glinted white and sharp.
Vultures hung in the air.
Stephen, the accused, had argued a lengthy defense, a thunder
of ancient names twisted somehow into new cloth until he
bound up Christ, that rebel rabbi, with Israel’s venerated Kings.
You, Saul, a student of Gamaiel, knew the Law, seized the duty
to fight this new Way, this pitiful rabble of believers
growing like barley in a newly ploughed field.
You resume raiding their homes, drag them all away
to prison, men and women alike; surprise attacks, cut them down,
their screams and cries discordant music to your ears.