Saturday, 28 March 2015


As we approach Easter. I've also had a fall recently and my left arm is in some considerable pain, not as much pain, but it gives me a way into the subject of this poem.

Pain, sharp, agony, in wrists and hands
I know why I am here, I know my fate
And why I came to these bleak lands
And I curse my fellow in my hate

Breathing is hard; I have done wrong
I know my guilt, but that man is good
I am going soon, I will not last long
Remember me, I plead, if you would

Today you will be in Paradise, he said
And he suffered too, laboured breath
But it was tears of sorrow that he shed
At last cried out, and went to death

Paradise can weave the strangest thread
Even on the cross, when full of dread.

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