WAITING FOR THE MESSIAH You could call us a miserable bunch, tell us how unlucky we are. You're right. We are ingenuous. We lapsed into dreams the very night we should have been wide awake. We shouted out the forbidden name (the name much better ignored) in all the streets. We lost the prize that should have been ours. You got it right. We're a dim bunch, nailed to the cross of our mistakes. We could never give up our simple faith. Our honor fell by the way like a bad debt; moments became days, then weeks, then years, all damaged beyond repair. Nothing redeemed us, not even one miracle. The firebrand among us burned to cinders. The dare-devil with bow and arrow got it smack in the solar plexus. The rampart constructed under cover of darkness is still waiting for its shining defenders. How long will he keep us waiting, that man who is worthy of our constancy? Yes, we are still mired in our dilemma, You can call us lunatics. We are crazier than ever, bound hand and foot to our excruciating faith. 52