Thursday, August 16, 2012

New lines on the Tomb of Joseph of Arimathia

I came from a town in Judea, which
after nigh two thousand years
is now only recalled in my name.
Thus does the world pass away.
I took the body of the Prophet,
Laid it in my family’s tomb,
Remembering our talks,
In his youth, in the temple, on the Mount..
To see the throat of the young man,
Who had grown to speak to the nation,
Stilled under the grave cloth,
No flutter of breath on the yellow caul, silenced.
Every death, is the end of us,
But to see the generation after, go before,
To see the strong hands, that emptied
The merchants from the temple, emptied of their strength.
This is the pain, of those who remain,
The best is over, the dawn turned black,
The wealth is meaningless,
The tomb is sealed.
Do not ask me now to say.
To testify from out, of this sealed tomb,
Whether that other rock, was rolled away.
Whether I know all, or nothing, I, can’t end the silence.
One day we will share it.

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