[Knitting A Conundrum]

Then those who had seized Jesus led him to Ca'iaphas the high priest, where the scribes and the elders had gathered.

But Peter followed him at a distance, as far as the courtyard of the high priest, and going inside he sat with the guards to see the end.

Now the chief priests and the whole council sought false testimony against Jesus that they might put him to death, but they found none, though many false witnesses came forward. At last two came forward and said, "This fellow said, `I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to build it in three days.'"

And the high priest stood up and said, "Have you no answer to make? What is it that these men testify against you?"

But Jesus was silent. And the high priest said to him, "I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God."

Jesus said to him, "You have said so. But I tell you, hereafter you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming on the clouds of heaven."

Then the high priest tore his robes, and said, "He has uttered blasphemy. Why do we still need witnesses? You have now heard his blasphemy. What is your judgment?" They answered, "He deserves death."

Then they spat in his face, and struck him; and some slapped him, saying, "Prophesy to us, you Christ! Who is it that struck you?"

Matthew 26:57-68

[Ciexyz]

Lovely poetry. Thanks for posting.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

The First Blow

The whip travels in a descending arc,
three thongs carrying weights of lead
double headed cargo
to increase the impact.

The hand that wields is,
the rough and calloused hand
of a soldier doing a duty,
unknowing,
uncaring
of whose back it was in front of him.

Perhaps as he swings,
he thinks of all the looks of disdain,
the women who turn away,
the men who spit when he passes
and they think he does not see,
this strange people
with their strange hates
and strange language
and strange god,
and in retalliation,
he swings harder.

Yet his hand is not alone
on the braided leather of the handle,
his hand,
shadowed by every hand,
my hand,
my arm swinging the leather,
my sin adding to the agony
of that blow,
my darkness slapping against his skin,
causing him to gasp for breath
as it bites
my weakness the lead gouges digging.

Mea culpa,
mea culpa,
mea maxima culpa.