The Last Bastion

This culture that molds men like soft clay soils

Prompts the dread doubts the doomed devil will lead:

Rebellions, defections, people to weed

Out from the ranks of paradise, Hell boils

Hot with corrupt priests and bishops their toils

Assisted by legions of demons whose deed

Destroyed all but the domestic church. seed

Sown in the married couple, their grace foils

These foul works, bombarded by day, refuge

Found in the home built on the rock of faith

Let the workplace and school spill a great deluge

Into the moat, high fortress dry, the feint

Foiled for now, though small in stature but huge

In number, the family makes the Saint.

Gary Edward Geraci