Category: Poems

A curtain keeps the neighbors out
And keeps my sleeping darkness in
Or rather keeps the morning out
And keeps me, lonely, in
A curtain kept the west at bay
And comrades in in East Berlin
A curtain held the people back
And kept the ark from sin
But one man hated curtains
And said, “Let all men tear
My flesh,” when he was lifted up
The curtains fell, with him they tore

Why should his actions overshadow me?
Oh, Adam! Is it true? I say it is
Absurd, unfair that his due mine should be
When choice and execution both were his
His verdict is now written o’er my own
Of it I’ll never, no way ‘gain be rid
Now his condition in my chest has grown
I look and sound and act just like he did
And now, his nature mine, I find that I
Don’t want to—more so, I no longer can—
Be me, not him, nor would I want to try
Behold! An equal shock, a second man!
Why should his actions overshadow me?
Absurd, unfair that his due mine should be

Why should his actions overshadow me?
Oh, Adam! Is it true? I say it is
Absurd, unfair that his due mine should be
When choice and execution both were his
His verdict is now written o’er my own
Of it I’ll never, no way ‘gain be rid
Now his condition in my chest has grown
I look and sound and act just like he did
And now, his nature mine, I find that I
Don’t want to—more so, I no longer can—
Be me, not him, nor would I want to try
Behold! An equal shock, a second man!
Why should his actions overshadow me?
Absurd, unfair that his due mine should be

With nothing but a day to fill, I cycled to the shore
Alone, I ventured further than I’d ever gone before
The town still dead, I rose, embarked, not knowing what I’d find
Or whether there’d be anything worth leaving else behind
I, skidding, stopped at each fog field, to pin for show and tell
And having seen, I weighed return, pride sated, self-impressed
But stray rays piqued through the smoky swells
So on I spun, half-caught–half-not–by vernal interest
I gasped when round the bend I turned:
The sea, eclipsed by he in heaven perched!
My dreams now underfoot, I yearned
To, waking, touch the face too bright to search
As I returned I saw I’d judged it wrong:
The shroud burned off now crimson painted lawns
Was all my road so lively all along?
Is all so right, so lovely as this dawn?

The Crown

Splitting tender scalp from skull
long spikes forced down to make their full
effect. What was alive this morning,
pulled and wrapped round without warning,
the branch created for protection,
men twisted, plotting insurrection.
They bound the King and claimed his breath,
He gave it, wearing crown of death.

They missed the cast of Heav’n, involved;
Christ triumphed, torn, but spirit resolved!
Death’s vine incinerated,
the Victor’s now venerated.
This all for their sake, who wove the crown,
who spit and scorned, who pressed it down,
one defeated, pain and strife,
the other won, the crown of life.

—

© Alex Kato and faithfulandfruitful, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alex Kato with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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