I Was There

Re-posting a poem I wrote 4 years ago as it says a lot about this day we call Good Friday.

Tom's Treasure

I sit here tonight
     and pray as I should.
As I do reflect
     on this day we call “Good”.
I try to imagine,
     if I had been there.
Would I have noticed,
     would I even care? 

People are dying
     out there on the hill.
That’s just what happens
     to that kind of swill.
The crowd’s cheering loudly,
     is that my voice too?
I want no part of this,
     this king that’s a Jew. 

Why do the shouts seem
     so loud in my ear?
What did I do that
     has brought me so near?
It seems I am stuck here,
     suspended in air.
I wish that the truth was,
     this punishment’s not fair. 

But as I consider
     the things I’ve done wrong.
It starts to sink in,
     this is where I belong.
I lived…

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