Monday, April 14, 2014

Simon at the Bar

As they were coming out, they found a man of Cyrene named Simon, whom they pressed into service to bear His cross.

I hope someone bought him a drink
if ever a man needed a double and some time
to let the pulse come-down and blood warm,
a breath and long moment to think. 

I hope people let him be,
to stew in the bigness. A change 
best viewed at the bottom of a tumbler;
meaning not understood but felt.

I hope he didn't rush to words,
left it in images, smells, and pains
still shooting from shoulder and neck--
undecorated, without ornament.

I hope someone bought him a drink
he let soak down to his toes
as flavors came out slow 
the questions took shape:

No comments: