The place called the skull

haiku for those who scoff.

It is called The Skull,

this place where problems are fixed

in time-honoured ways.

Bodies are broken

and causes brought to an end,

Hopes meet their nadir.

People standing by

join their leaders' scoffing cries.

Soldiers also mock.

The man saved others;

if he is God's chosen one,

let him save himself!

Not much sympathy

from one who also hangs there;

he joins the mockers

Are you not the Christ?

Save yourself! While you're at it

spare a thought for us.

The third man protests:

He's not deserving of this!

Asks: Remember me.

Not permitting pain

to determine love's limits,

Jesus answers: Yes.

© Ken Rookes 2016

It is hard to remain alert

Our houses are reliquaries.

The objects they hold have many shapes, colours and sizes;

some are valuable, and promise much.

We festoon our dwellings with chains and bolts fashioned from fear,

and security cameras, should the locks fail.

We will not be taken advantage of;

we will guard what we have.

Yes, we know these things are all just stuff;

precious, perhaps,

but stuff, nonetheless.

In time it will all be reduced to dust.

Still we take much comfort from our locks.

The disciple is to be prepared, alert;

so the ancient scripture enjoins.

This instructive text was written in those excited early years

when the imminent return of the master

was eagerly anticipated.

Jesus is coming; look busy!

After two millenia the sense of expectancy

has largely evaporated, at least for some of us.

For twenty-first century disciples

the urgent metaphors for faithful living –

being dressed for action and keeping our oil lamps burning –

must have some other purpose.

© Ken Rookes 2016