I only met him once

his long body

curved and delicate

like a well sucked wishbone

and behind his eyes

the memories of countless nights

manacled to the nightmares of Satan

his ears besieged by devilish anthems

declaring that his Christ was dead.

And now every movement magnifying the taut weariness

of a prisoner of war

a walking twig

a victim of the flight

between heaven and hell

his body like the Messiah’s

so gladly given to torture

for the sake of strange mystical things

like resurrections and kneeling with angels

to sing the joyous symphonies of paradise.

I only met him once

and I walked away and wept.

*Copyright Steward Henderson and reproduced with the author’s permission

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One Comment Add yours

  1. susan jane gibbard nash says:

    that poem was awesome !


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