blood, of stone columned terraces filled with
snarling and baying faces, of whips and nails and spears.
The stench of it all seemed to stay in my nostrils,
the noise of it still rang in my ears
even as I awoke to dappled sun behind my curtains
and the gentle murmur of a distant dove.
Perhaps I read too much history,
and perhaps I think about it more than I should; anyway,
praise the Lord that today we live in a calmer clime; there are
no Christians thrown to the lions in these parts,
no tiered crowds to delight in the violent spectacle
acted out in the arena beneath them, and
to cheer on every hurt inflicted.
These days we stay at home, and watch the soaps.