They crucified
him at dawn,
Before sunrise
His soul was
fluttering among the clouds.
They left him
days and days,
An example
To
revolutionaries.
Every day at
noon
On our way to
lunch
We see him
crucified.
A year passed
Yet, his blood
is still trickling.
Every day, a
drop of blood trickles in the sand
In thunderous
silence.
Every day at
noon
With a loaf of
bread
We hurry
towards our shackles
At the labour
site
In the
mountain of slaves
We look up at
him
We might see
humiliation in his eyes
To know that
we have survived
A severe
hardship
We see him
looking from high at us
Smiling
Victory laughs
In the twinkle
of his tear
As though
He had never
died
Nor was he
crucified
As though
It's us on the
cross
Tortured
By our
humility
And tortured
By his… smile!
7/1/2008
