The Hubris of the Congressional Hawk

(after Isaiah 63:2-6)

Why are your shoes so red
Like those of a man who treads grapes?

“I tread out a vintage alone.
The people were not with me,
But I showed them my anger
And trampled them with my rage.
Their life-blood ruined my pants
And my clothing was stained.
I had planned a day of vengeance.
My year of achievement had arrived.
When I looked, no one was there to fight.
I stared the people in the eye,
But no one offered their son.
So my own arm brought a draft
And my own rage filled the trenches.
I showed the people my anger.
I made them drunk with my rage.
And trumpeted my glory to the heavens.”


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