Pieta's Ode
O that grief in stone alone would tell
That passage from life's cross to hell
For having been born we begin the process
Of our unbecoming, a very subtle knell
Tolled on beads of faith in counter spell
All of death's exacting claim and duress.
But this Christ cast down by the evil it
The thing he did make subduing spirit
To take its flight from flesh, and leave the leather
Gnarled and twisted, so death inhabit
There God in convulsions truths admit
Is more than just change, or state of weather
Walk me through the crowd again, fled
From the picture, hear the hollow dread,
The dismal cry before existential emptiness
The brittle bonds of broken Godhead
The loneliness for sin that stood my stead
It tells upon even stone in lifeless grimace
How clever in work each chisel caught there
Languid form, and pity in the stare-less stare
The naked moment of our point of death foretold
The diligence against the strain of all fear
The sombre moment lurid on the dismal air
God is one with man, so man may grace the fold.
But in this deposition with self imposed I see
More than just a comment on self history
I see the co-opted glory of an alien race
The transposition of a marginal identity
The subjugation of faith to human mastery
Birthed and centered in death's callous place.
Go on you worshipers of idols in griefs of stone
Martyr yourselves for adulation of the throne
Art is memory that only tells in part our intent
The cross' silent purpose by sage sins condone
The longing to remove God and take his zone
Of time and space for preferred devilment.
I before no pieta bow, let the mad man die alone
Man came from the earth and O the worth unknown
To hold his God not as dead thing, but life summed
Through faith and gift of grace, a worthiness of throne
After the marble is cut, look out for the single stone
Toppling kingdoms in its roll as bright Jesus come.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
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