what would you steal from me, thief?
these Romans took my clothes
my friends ran off with their loyalty
my priests filled their pockets with my people
I’ve nothing left but you
my captive audience
it took a lot to nail you down
and gain your full attention
all your life
you worshipped at the altar of desire
only to find it is a god unsatisfied
by less than everything
in all your crimes
you were the victim and now you find
a god is dying next to you
and you so skewered you cannot even
stretch a hand out to ask for mercy
you are the archetype
the first to take his cross and follow me
nothing is what it seems
your prayer was answered long ago and you will see
breaking and entering done here
on a cosmic scale
will I remember you?
I tell you the truth
today you will be with me in paradise
Second poem of seven in the sequence words from the cross. Revised December 2017.
© Godfrey Rust, firstname.lastname@example.org. See here for details of permissions for use.