My Favorite Nazi

My Favorite Nazi
 
 
My favorite Nazi isn’t best bedecked with medals on his breast,
An outstretched arm and puffed-up chest emblazoned
With that spider crest that pleased Der Führer and
Distressed the generations God had dressed
In blessings unlike all the rest He
Promised that He’d love.
 
Nor does my Nazi awkward lie, a bullet through each evil eye,
His thorax crushed like fallen pie or legs up-twisted to
The sky, nor selfish end meant to deny the
Pleasure of the public eye that wished
To see that bastard fry – For if he
Does, no better I would be than
He whom I decry:  A guilty,
Blood-stained devil.
 
My favorite Nazi is the one who, being dragged unto the Son,
Is devastated and undone: who wants to kneel or squeal
Or run, to find the home where hell has won or get
What’s coming from the gun…  But looking up
Beholds the One from whom all grace and
Mercy come, Who hugs the child the
Christians shun: My Nazi. Then
His heart is spun. Yes – even
He…  forgiven.