Poem 337

Really nice half-rhyme here, and good the way the poem wrong-foots you (or you wrong-foot yourself) into making assumptions about who it’s about …

… last poem about crucifixion I promise! (see Poems 31, 103 and 223) …

Son Of Man

The man on the cross
bled and his blood
was red then brown
then joined the dust

he said to himself
I am of true belief
if you hear me now
then give me leave

there was no answer
but the groan of wood
and the groan of the body
that was all his world

nothing
                he said
I never believed
and his torn feet strained
harder to breathe

he struggled because
he wanted to live
touch his ruined soles to earth
find someone to eat
and drink and sleep with

his friends were busy at that
there was no one to hear him speak
hung up at the last to die
with a madman and another thief