We Played the Flute for You

Depart, peregrine. We the pious swineherds of Gadara defy you.
Do not restore to fellowship, do not enlighten, he whom we know benighted.
It is not seeming. The women are in uproar.
If you must work miracles, do not sacrifice the pigs.
Not the pigs, by which honest men live. Honest men, sir.

Meat and drink, stock and trade, sweat and blood.
This is corporal. This is not meet. You are no better than we.
Wisdom should be thin. Love should not have teeth or fingers.
Do not claim the business of angels in the flesh of animals.
Sir, is it a demon or is it gluttony? Tell us.

We have ways of dealing with people like you.
Large rocks make a secure peace.
Your hubris astounds us, sir. Do you not understand
That we are a Community? A Society? A Group.
Yet you dare to give love to a One whom we have spurned.

Your pride, sir, is to declare clean what we ourselves have seen unclean.
Your pride, sir, is to defame that which we find proper and safe.
Leave.
We have no time for you, sir — for we are a Community.
Go away.