Indelible

I ask myself, what road was left to take?
My breath is all but holy, yet I know
Their offered accusation was a stake
Too high for me to chance. And where to go,
Upon a tree where once I saw him hang?
Where demon’s eyes looked on him from the crowd –
Where Roman scourge, and viper’s venom fangs –
That drove him dead and beaten to the shroud –
Will light my path? I ask you not to cast
A heavy finger out in my direction,
For I am not a man that has a past
Of sin and disobeying insurrection.
You cannot hold the blame unto my head.
I did not cause the screams of hellish pain,
Or up upon the cross leave him for dead,
Nor did I drive the nails into his vein,
Or sweep a scarlet cloak across his chest,
And neither did I pierce his tattered brow,
But I’m the man that now they all detest!
And now the people all that used to bow
Have nothing left but loathing for my name!
And still I see them brooding in my dreams,
Some silent Nazorean, all the same
Is thrown before my court. The mob, it teems
With curdling cries for nothing short of death
Upon this quiet man. And still I see
His ragged lungs exhale their dying breath,
His eyes of searing blue still gaze at me
Like nothing from this world could bring him down.
Go, fetch me now a cloth to dry my eyes –
Far too much blood has spattered on my gown
And on my face. And what! to my surprise
This blood of Christ with effort won’t erase
And leave me deaf of all the thund’rous cries!

I see it now, upon my gravest place:
‘Here lies the man who brought the Christ to die.’