PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A virle Roman soldier always scorns

the criminals condemned to crucifixion---

sentenced thus, having proven enemies

of Rome and to the great imperial peace.

After a thorough scourging we amused

ourselves---not just with verbal mockeries,

but adding to the victims' injuries;

a kind of joke to have them more abused.

One man we killed (and that was twenty years

ago) was different:  without flinch or tears,

and no attempts to play on sympathy's

compassion for him, or his family's

sorrow and shock.  For all we did, he said

no words.  Laughing, we wove a crown of thorns

and pressed it forcefully upon his head.

No sound came out of him---but how he bled!

He never satisfied our expectation---

never begged mercy, or made guiltless pleas;

nor babbled in a shameless trepidation

before the day brought far worse agonies.

He was one of life's curiosities.

Sometimes, he strides forth in my memories,

disrupting my retired serenity's

demeanor, to a point I---sometimes---dread.

But I do not deserve such aggravation:

I did my duty, without dereliction.

Starward

[jlc]