was there no one
not one
in the mob who looked at him
really looked at him
did no one see His eyes brimming with tenderness
or the lines of sorrow etched on his face
Jesus dragged into town
in the darkness
to the gates of the impressive looking Castle Antonia
so representative of our form of religion
the rules and regulations that have replaced relationship
once again
it is the priests who scream all the demands
taken before Annas
passed onto Caiaphas
pulled by a rope around the neck like a dog
as entertainment for the religious elite
yet
there was never a moment
when this man Jesus did not choose his own path
my ears fill with the echo of each stinging slap
I stagger under his pounding heart
his swelling cheek
knowing that I, too, am one pulling on the rope
my sins slapping his beautiful face
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