PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Our Roman justice hardly ever fails,
and we will drive that pont home when our nails
fasten your wrists upon the crossbeam first;
and then a short lift on to the upright
(and we are grateful that your weight is light);
and then one more nail to secure your feet.
If I may offer some small consolation:
your suffering will have been the worst
that I have seen. That much excruciation
happened, on our detail, about a week
ago. The whole affair was rather odd:
a Galilaean Rabbi, and we beat
him without mercy, past all recognition
(on Pilate's orders, in his vain conceit
that he could use this to appease that crowd,
but it just made them shout more, crude and loud).
We marched him through town, then to Calvary.
I never saw a man in that condition
put on a cross. He looked more like raw meat,
than human. A storm came up suddenly
around noon. Unlit darkness filled the sky
until the moment came for him to die.
We wondered if lightening or hail might wreak
havoc. The old man---our Centurion---
shouted that this cadaver the son
(not just a servant, but the Son) of God.
Imagine that! But once again I talk
too much. Excuse me. We shall take a walk
up to that ridge; the same path. Buck up, Lad.
I do not think you will find it as bad
as that experience the Rabbi had.
That center upright you will occupy,
was his, and will be many others' too.
This morning it has been reserved for you.
I hear his followers in town now speak
as if he had attained a resurrection.
I doubt your luck will lean toward that direction. 

Starward

[jc]