Haiku of the passion.
Can’t risk a riot;
wait till the festival’s past.
Then we can kill him.
Nothing much has changed,
the dirty work still happens
when no one’s watching.
They set up Judas
to betray him. Paid him well,
presumably.
Sharing sacred meal
he spoke of being betrayed..
Surely not I, Lord?
They shared bread and wine.
My body, my blood, for you;
find me deep within.
You will all leave me
when the testing time is here;
even you, Peter.
Sit here while I pray,
he told his friends. But they slept;
the flesh being weak.
Betrayed and taken,
put on trial; the outcome
predetermined.
Taken to Pilate.
Are you the King of the Jews?
Have you no answer?
Let me release him;
he does not deserve death. No!
Give us Barabbas!
Much mocking, spitting,
purple cloak with crown of thorns.
Lead him out to die.
They crucified him,
with two bandits, one each side.
There was much mocking.
At noon the darkness.
At three, abandonment’s cry,
and then the last breath.
With linen grave-cloth
he is entombed. A stone rolled
to seal the entrance.
© Ken Rookes 2021
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