Calvary

 
Now as my wounds allow
hot blood to drain into my eyes
and then along the reach and span
of my suspended body’s length and limbs,
and as I find it more and more impossible
without spiked agony
searing through my wrists and feet
to lift myself, as needs must be,
if I’m to fill my ragged lungs with breath,
I’m on the verge of being pieced and breached
again
by harrowing despair
that surges in the depths of  me
upon the sudden dawning of unbidden thoughts
that I’m no longer, if I ever was,
anointed for  a heavened vouchsafed destiny
or hades scoffing victory
that will, upon a prophesied “third day”,
un-sting,
and glorify,  make nonsense of,  
my now impending, ugly death.
My hearing fades, although I’m told
it is the sense that is the last to go
as the darkness of the grave
begins to coil around one’s eyes.
The cat-calls of the chief priests
and the passers-by deriding my
ability to save myself
and all the bitter curses that the trussed up lestai
on my left and right
are heaping on my heard
are growing distant, dim
but still within my ear have sense.
Perhaps they’re right.
Perhaps I do deserve this recompense,
this punishment,
deserve to be upon this cross
repulsive and condemned,
because it’s true, as Caiaphas declared,
I’ve sinned and uttered blasphemy
against Ha Shem.
I really am a pseudo-christ
forsaken by my god.