Followers

Friday 5 July 2013

STIGMATA

You swear at your neighbour and threaten to maim him
because he fails to see your point of view.
You're filled with anger,
                                       intolerance,
                                                          hatred.
Let him stand up for himself - if he dare:
He'll be sorry if he does,
                                       because you'll kill him..
Politeness,
                 charity,
                             kindness:
                                            they're alien.
Inside you, rage burns,
                                    spite devours.
Somebody else's face
                                  drawing your fist,
and your face,
                       like a death mask,
is menacingly calm above all this seething
with savage compulsion to destroy.
He mumbles something
                                      unintelligible.
You throw a punch.
                                The agony...
as unseen knife shoots clean through your hand.
You raise the other
                               in self defence,
                                                       and that's pierced too.
A six inch
                nail
                      out of thin air
                                            through the palm.
Now barbed wire tears: feel
the blood running down your cheeks
as you stumble through a thorn bush.
Is that broken glass
                               you just stepped on,
embedded there in the soft earth?
Sad, celestial music
                               playing in your head.
There is blood
                       oozing into your footprints.
And lilies:
the overpowering scent of lilies
                                                  permeating the very air around you.
JESUS -
you feel your heart breaking: yes - you,
feeling...
emotion,
              compassion:
oh, the excruciating agony
of everything
                 ever experienced
                                            since the dawn of humanity
becoming personal.
You,
        who have never set foot
                                              inside a church,
desperately needing one...



In calm reverence
you kneel before his effigy
                                           on the Cross,
feeling the blood
                          drip,
                                 drip
from His sacred wounds.
And now,
               finally,
you begin to understand.
 

18 comments:

  1. Damn this is powerful...it would make anyone understand I would hope :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Keith.:)
      Hope it never happens to me...

      Delete
  2. Amazing imagery with every line. The flow of this is great. I cringe. I attempt to maintain a distance. In the end, understanding wins.. Thank you

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    Replies
    1. Many thanks, Anthony:)
      Yes...the very thought of it makes me cringe too.
      Think I'll be on my best behaviour!!

      Delete
  3. Oh, bravo, dear lady! This is intense! Very typical behaviour captured splendidly in this poem. Bravo :)

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Rose, so much.
      I can't imagine how scary it would be to experience the Stigmata...hope I never do! Haha:D

      Delete
  4. Mesmerising and powerful as the punch and nail delivered! The way it sways - back and forth through the eyes of both.

    ... and in the end, we will all understand.
    I often wonder if this is just the beginning of the beginning.

    xx

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Dale!
      I think perhaps you are right...it IS just the beginning of the beginning...:) xxx

      Delete
  5. Well, if you ever have the stigmata you won't need the exorcist, eh? :D Ah, but the agony and the ecstasy, divine!

    Divine piece Yg.

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    Replies
    1. Haha...I sometimes AM the exorcist!!!

      This was one of my highly Spiritual musings, Gnome.
      It happens occasionally:D

      Many, many thanks x

      Delete
  6. Somebody else's face
    drawing your fist,

    Like all the other phrases, beautifully used. A great poem.

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    Replies
    1. Oh thank you Dave.
      That is so much appreciated :)

      Delete
  7. The power of it makes me feel the punches, and sorrow, once again hatred reigns for a while...but never forever

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm beginning to think even hatred has it's reasons...perhaps it is no more than an alternative pathway to Divine Love?!
      As you say, it cannot endure forever...not without changing form into something altogether more Spiritual...:)

      Delete
  8. If that poem doesn't make someone stop and take stock of the hurt they're inflicting on the world, I don't know what would. Your piece is powerful without being admonishing. Many thanks.

    Greetings from London.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh thank you so much!
      If my humble poem does have that effect, then I will be truly satisfied with my efforts...:)

      Delete

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