Crucifixion
so we scavenge, so we scrabble
we sift through detritus of pathetic little histories,
we search, we yearn,
for more, for something worthwhile,
for something good, epithanitic...
but we fail, we succeed only doing
ourselves the harm we so richly deserve in the hereafter,
we stop, we stare,
transfixed, by rage,
by fire bathing our souls,
this hellish dousing, cleanse, rinse-repeat...
and should some poor soul hum this ditty,
then fulfilled my ambition be...
the thorn, the crucify-tree...
and we rant on, seeing no saving
from the powers, the shadow-cloaked habits of wisdom,
assuring, assuaging,
that good, that divine care,
will save our silly souls...
but time, hard experience
has long since taught us truths bathed in the now,
we laugh, we cry,
given over, in total,
to the reality of this life,
and the fire that cleanses, rinse-repeat...
and should another man sing this song,
then laughing, putrid my soul is free...
the thorn, the crucify-tree...
Copyright © Henk Van Niekerk | Year Posted 2022
|