PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after John 20]

I too, noticed the darkening at noon.

I almost thought the Sabbath had begun

(although perhaps a little bit too soon;

and not preceded by the normal dusk).

I did not know, then, just how I should take

that starless, moonless darkness, then the quake

that I felt even here, across the city.

But after three hours came, again, the sun.

I tell you---my relief was quite profound.

Much later, weary Nicodemus knocked

on my shop door.  For him, yes, I unlocked

the shop.  He had come this way, seeking spices---

myrrh and aloes:  he said, a hundred pound

weight (and the quality fetches high prices).

I hoped, tried as I was, not to sound brusk

as Nicodemus, weeping, said to me,

"The prophet, Jesus, come from Galilee,

"died on a Roman cross, condemned; now dead

"more quickly than they hoped.  He must have bled

"to death after that scourging.  Now, in dread

"of priests' wrath, we will place Him in a tomb."

Sad Nicodemus has been a good friend,

and other merchants may think I am wrash,

or that my mind has slipped around some bend.

But with so much of his life now amiss,

and all that I feel, standing by, is pity,

the small comfort I can offer is this:

seeing such sorrow, I dare not presume

to ask for, or even accept, his cash."

Starward

[jlc]