“We can’t take that,” you said. “There’s a nude on the front!”
So what? There are nudes in the Bible (Genesis 2).
There’s also a glorious picture you ought to know
Of naked truth banishing calumny,
And one of winged love protecting naked life,
But all you see is smut,
Short-visioned, life-denying little man!
Are you ashamed of the body the good Lord gave you,
Ashamed of the act by which you came to be?
Poor man! Who taught you to despise yourself?
God glories in each little act of creation
And in each tiny cell
Of thirteen billion that form your frame.
Tourists on top of the sightseeing bus
And Geordie commuters on the number 12
Are challenged by her heavenward-pointing arms
And sun-saluting face, “Look if you dare;
I am ashamed of nothing that I am.”
You, in your bookshop and your tailored suit,
Are far more naked than she
In the chaste dignity of her nudity.