Alan Ireland | + Follow Poet |
Rhyme | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

Calvary

Although their blows knew no restraint, 
Their countenances no control, 
He bore their hate without complaint
That love might make their hunger whole.

The curses that had filled the night
Gave way to stifled sobs and wails, 
While on that hill the infinite
Was held for half a day by nails.

He cried aloud in grief and pain; 
The soldiers stopped awhile to stare, 
Then turned their backs against the rain
And grubbed among his underwear.


First published in Outposts, England

Copyright © Alan Ireland | Year Posted 2017

Please Login to post a comment

Patricia Cresswell Date: 8/9/2017 9:13:00 AM The soldiers were just doing their job all be it with unnecessary disregard and roughness. They were just soldiers. But what really eats at me is those high born, intelligent, leaders of the temple. Their base compulsion to guard their positions was ugly. People, you would expect, to follow their pius calling. It has not changed. Perhaps it will change when we have learned the lessons. To whom much is given much is expected. Login to Reply Alan Ireland Date: 8/9/2017 10:24:00 PM It's an interesting topic. In the Roman Empire, crucifixion was a punishment for political, not religious, crimes. The Romans had a lot of gods, and could always make room for another. What they wouldn't tolerate was a challenge to their authority, or a refusal to respect the cult of the emperor.

Dean Wood Date: 6/13/2017 5:51:00 PM More Alan, please. Login to Reply Alan Ireland Date: 8/9/2017 10:16:00 PM My Jesuit friend loved this one!

Alan Ireland Date: 4/12/2017 6:28:00 PM This poem was first published in Outposts (United Kingdom). Login to Reply