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At A Shop, On Its Front Porch, In Jerusalem
Last day to do some trade before the Feast
begins: but what went wrong with our High Priest?---
who had to start something political,
goading Pilate into an execution.
I keep this shop thriving upon brisk sales;
none now. Three hours ago, soldiers passed by,
leading those three poor wretches out to die.
The Romans really love to crucify
for any cause; today, three crosses full
(the center one is just for retribution
and not for any proven criminal
activity). An edgy mood prevails.
No one seeks satisfaction for a need
on which we can do business in my shop.
The air seems still. The spring's fresh breezes stop.
The random noise beyond these four walls fails.
Dear God, the light is dying in the sun.
What have our proud and righteous leaders done?
We have come to a black Friday indeed.
Starward
[jlc]
