Sunday, March 9, 2014

Sunday Poem: When They Spit on You

When you carry your cross
through the crowded streets
of Jerusalem,
you will be so close to those
along the road, that they
can reach out and touch
When they spit
on you
the phlegm will hit
like a bullet and saliva
will drip
from your brow.

When you are called to carry
a cross
you are not only required
to suffer,
you are volunteering to suffer
in full view,
to let the world
look down on you.

You cannot endure a cross
with pride and dignity.
A cross is carried
through crowded dirty
narrow streets.
A cross
is meant
to break you.


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