a small study of St. Mark’s concluding passion
Harvey S. Mozolak
sockets that held no light
twin caves of darkness
felt along the walls
stumbling over stones
the fallen house brick
a child’s stick toy
in the way
this one going down
to Jerusalem with single sight
to be laughed at in the temple
beaten in the palace
condemned in its courts
to climb its hill
and close eternal eyes
seeing only our blindness
him we met
at Bethsaida
brought by others
to cross his path
he who would be spit upon
made me see first trees
in the wet taste of his breath
and then those who walk
with unrooted sight that does not see
later closer to the city
just beyond Jericho
Bartimaeus by the road
begging mercy
healed to follow him deeper
into darkness
receiving sight and light
to see the trees
and the man hung from them
high in the sky
his broken body blotting out
the noon
in a new and sunken sun
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