Confession
Then he, the flesh, Peeling
Till blood poured, streaming
Through the heart of mesh,
Knelt one more time, To shake
The nailing of his mind.
He felt the bite of the snake
Again and again. The bright
Venom decomposing his faith
In what he came to do.
He knew flesh alone was not enough
To lift the wretched cup
And like the old Greek
Smooth the slithering choice.
Exile was easier than being vertical
On a narrow bed of wood between the jeers
And the pointed spears
Piercing through the mind. One of them spoke
And light fell like like a star that day
He was the Son of God
And I, just a regimen of clay.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
