The emaciated voice crept naked amongst tombs,
dark skin clung to bones set unnatural, broken and bent
body hijacked, thrown to the ground in convulsions.
Dark skin accented with violet bruises, crimson cuts—
a legion of scars collected dust, unable to heal.
This was past, present, and future.
Then the voice became a man, and the man ran to tell
a future interrupted, an empire disturbed, a prisoner free,
a corpse alive: ominous happy news.
The testimony came days later along the lakeshore,
the beach littered with dead pigs, black clouds buzzed above
each rotting carcass, clothed with dark green hairs
undulating in the current, hooves lifted up,
bellies bloated and bobbing, bodies partially decomposed,
A drowned army washed-up along the Galilee.