New poem

I read with interest Amber’s comment on the blog. I am amazed that God did not make what we call intelligence (or large vocabulary or even creativity) high on His list of things He most admires. He is impressed by faith and love — now, that’s real intelligence in His book.

So any of you who are waiting to say something “smart” on my blog — don’t worry about that! Build my faith and that of other readers. Create unity and love within the Body of Christ.

On another front:
I try most years during the paschal season to write at least one poem about the last days of the earthly life of Jesus. Here is the one I wrote this year:

John 19:38-39

What a disheveled heap
This bled-out bone bag makes
Crusted with spit and sweat
Entrusted with threats to the two of us

The workman”‘s wiry muscles, now slack
Are pitiful as they break through the flayed skin
But the blood ““ it is all gone, tired of flowing
Clotted and forgotten at the dirt footer of
The flogging pole
And of course
That cross

We avert from each other
But we cannot stop our own tears
Squeezed out between our eyelids
That should shield us from what we see here:
The candlewax pallor

The shamed nakedness we wash and cover first
To give the modesty the audience denied
Our towels dipped in the pots
We lugged down the stairs

The water pinks now
In the lamplight

Part by part
Limb by limb
We dampen and rub away
All the vestiges on
The shell of a delivered-over spirit

One of the winding cloths rolls below the ledges
We reel it in and wrap his arms
From the swaddles on our grizzled forearms

We have grown wrinkles under our tears
The weight is almost beyond our old-men strength
We heft and lean
Balance and wrap

The acrid spices
The confined space
Bring more tears
More tears

We find we do not need
The water any more

(c) 2007 Latayne C. Scott

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