The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 6/29/08

[BlueIris]

"The Unforgiven"

		                  Luke, 23: 39-43

The reformers cackle at the gate, clutching
their carefully collected eggs and tomatoes,
a rotten harvest.

You are protected.  This is as it should be.

What else have you stolen?  A wife, two children,
enough to keep you living well, if well beyond
your means.

Nothing anyone else wanted.

For five dollars you took the name your father
gave you.  And then he died and left you 
with his dusty mark.

How quickly they gathered stones.

I too took up a stone against you.
But that was centuries ago, before I cast my lot 
with yours.

Today, I drop the stone in the dirt.

A traitor commits his crime but once.  The rest
is retribution.  Slowly, I begin to pity
even myself.

They will break your legs and insist you walk.

Endure them.  Each of us suffers with envy
for the forgiven.  Even I, now telling 
you this.

Thank you for the gifts you sent.  I needed them.

I don't care where they came from.  From here,
where there is no garden, I kiss you,
on the other cheek you turn to me.

—Marie Howe

[cliss]

1. Hi Blue Iris,

thanks for the poetry break. (as I frantically rush to get done with my deadlines looming)

Very nice break.

[BlueIris]

2. Sure thing.

I thought this one would get a good reception here.

[I Have A Dream]

3. Yes, very nice. Thank you. nt