Crucial Fiction

Mary Magdalene sits, sin-soaked hands
Squeezing tears, juicing the pulp of a stone.
Mortalized by mortar slabs, while shearing
Black strands of baptized hair, blessed so long ago.
Each lock, eagerly cut off- she knows it was never her own.

Pontius Pilate, you do so make Tiberius proud. - Judas Iscariot lies in a field, counting thirty Caesar Augustus trusts your judgment, such a -- Pieces of silver. One of Twelve, yet only one
Decision only the righteous of hands can hand - who swelled with the cold kiss of ‘the killer’. Down. What’s the truth, O what IS truth- you - He whose heart beat was of jealous deceit,
Who sits ‘side his throne. Telling lies, but not --- Hang head in defeat, hung high for all to see One line in this pious final sentence your own. ------ Was this betrayal, or fulfilling prophecy?

Nazareth Sun; a star sent, shines down no longer.
Bethlehem’s virginal born- now withering, worn.
Flogged, mocked, stoned, beaten- with a crown
They beseech him, thorns adorn for royalty scorn.
Blood, water- flow separate, both palms ripped
by nails and stakes dripping rubies in atonement.
E′li, E′li, la′ma sa‧bach‧tha′ni? (My God, My God-
Why have you forsaken me?) We thirst for answer
With not a shepherd to lead his little lambs home.
Three more days minus grace, lifeless lying in wait
Until that time, all he can cry is- “It is finished!”

(c) Paul LaTorre 2010