Friday, 22 April 2011

Good Friday

Washing One's Hands
Washing one's hands of the conflict
between the powerful and the powerless
means to side with the powerful,
not to be neutral.
Paulo Freire

The Crucifixion


You were one with the Father.

Then the Father turned his back on you.

You felt forsaken,

hanging there between heaven's thunder

and the dank spittle of earth.


For that moment you belonged nowhere.

You were love, cut off from love;

truth nailed down by lies.

You must have wanted to explode, to disintegrate,

to disappear into a void.

But that was forbidden.

And that was the test.


Your blood burst through your skin

and ran down like sweat.

Your sweat ran cold

and drained into your heart.

The universe caught hold of your pain.

The sun went blind with grief.

The earth shivered in shock.

History was torn in two.


I stood at a distance,

my collar turned up,

like a murderer witnessing

a wrongful arrest.


Steve Turner

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