Court-Martial

The saints are all arraigned.
Their tiny robe-clad figures
form a line atop my computer screen.
Its glow illumines downturned faces
as they search for signs of mercy.

Piety lit their long road here.
Inspired by the Church, or in spite of it,
the path of devotion was hard but clear.
Only the depraved disparaged their chants,
and all knew the fate of infidels.

Not heaven but a Lilliputian hell awaited.
Technology's lurid flicker
is the light of this new world,
its indictment of grace
unyielding as a pyre.