Easter Poem


<a href="" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Source</a>

Here I hang like statue from a cross –

the stone engraving of my life in one sharp granite stare,

the vinegar upon my lips and this same dusty hill advancing and retreating

in a rush and whirl of movement

while the agony within my side

has stirred my memory to soft remonstrance of my love for them;

and in their glance they cannot sense the reeling imagery that flashes

with kaleidoscopic brightness down my mind,

intensifying every moment, vivifying vision,

till my sick eyes’ tendency to darkness brightens

and I gaze far down the valley to the green shrubs and the watered crops,

listening to thrushes as the evening nears –

the sound of children’s voices climbing up the hills to me.

<a href="" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Source</a>


What do you think?

Written by Jonathan Finch