Sonnet

Praise Him all His angels.
Praise Him all His host.
They laugh at the bottom of the picture, His cherubic angels.
But here also is a ghost.

The Madonna stares not adoringly.
At the infant Son after birth.
But with Him towards us sadly.
They look at His death.

They are not in the clouds.
But under a curtain rail.
They are rooted here among us crowds.
Bound by the anguish of the nail.

They stare not at the congregation.
But at the crucifixion.

Haiku

They stare not at us
But at the crucifixion
As we should also